


The gods have fashioned us for love

by myrish_lace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Biting, Chains, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Goodbyes, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Marking, Marriage, Married Couple, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Plans For The Future, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Protectiveness, Romantic Soulmates, Scheming, Secrets, Slow Dancing, Sneaking Around, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Wall Sex, Wedding Night, Weddings, this is my first foray into alpha/omega dynamics so please be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Sansa Stark had dreamed of the day her red omega mark would appear. It would gradually shade into a soft golden color over the course of a year. Then, she'd be ready to marry an alpha from a great house with a matching golden mark  - if a match could be found. Not every alpha and omega pair shared them, of course - her mother and father hadn't, and they still loved each other very much. But Sansa was a young woman who loved stories and songs. She was certain the day would come when Maester Luwin would smile at her and tell her he'd received a raven with word of her mate who shared the very same mark as hers.But when Sansa's mark arrived, the gods played a cruel joke on her. Maester Luwin had already recorded a match for her in his book - Jon Snow. And since he was within the castle walls, she and Jon would go into heat that very night.What happened next was a matter of survival.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [israfel00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/gifts).

> Many thanks to israfel00 for their invaluable help with this fic! This story is seven chapters long, and complete! I'll be posting a new chapter approximately every other day. I'm myrish-lace-love on tumblr if you'd like to say hi! :)

Sansa brushed her hair out as she sat at her vanity. She stared out the window at the cloudy afternoon, trying to focus on the snow drifting through the air. But she couldn't stop touching the mark at her waist. She'd known something was wrong the moment it appeared. In the great houses, the red color of a new omega mark transformed slowly into gold over the course of several months. Maester Luwin would have had time to send ravens to the other great houses, to see if a match could be found. Alpha marks were golden from the beginning. She'd be ready to wed her alpha as soon as her mark turned golden.

But Sansa's mark already shone with a soft golden sheen on her skin. 

Maester Luwin had gone pale when he'd examined her mark than morning. He'd stepped out to record it, and search the library. 

Sansa set down her brush. It might have been a lovely day, she thought wistfully. Her handmaiden Darra tidied up the room. Sansa had been looking forward to an evening of sewing, after she and Darra were done sharing stories of the kitchens.

Now, Sansa couldn't quiet her nerves. She wished her mother and father were here. But they'd both traveled to the Eyrie when they'd learned that Lysa and Jon Arryn were gravely ill. Robb was Lord of Winterfell now. For some reason, Maester Luwin had refused to call for Robb when he'd seen Sansa's mark. He'd told her to stay in her room, and promised he'd return soon with answers.

Sansa heard a knock at the door, and reached for Darra's hand. 

"Yes, come in, please."

Maester Luwin entered the room with a dusty tome tucked under his arm. He bowed to Sansa, and gave her a kind look. Sansa had spent many afternoons studying by his side. She'd excelled at reading and struggled with sums during his lessons. He'd been a thoughtful, patient teacher through it all. 

"What I can tell you, my lady, is that you are not the first to beat such a mark. Hundreds of years ago, in the Valyrian houses, golden omega marks such as yours were not uncommon." 

Sansa blinked. "Old Valyria? But what could that possibly have to do with me?"

Maester Luwin pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am not entirely sure, my lady. I do wish Lord and Lady Stark were here." 

"What will happen to me?" Sansa expected to hear that she'd go into heat right away, but that was manageable. An omega went into heat once her mark turned golden. The first heat was intense, but as long as her mate was far away, she should face no more than an uncomfortable night. 

Maester Luwin took a deep breath. "My lady, please try to remain calm. What I am about to tell you will shock you, but I promise I've devised a plan to keep you safe." Darra squeezed Sansa's hand. Maester Luwin frowned. "Darra, I'm afraid I must ask you to guard the secret you hear next with your life. You are an omega yourself, and I suspect Sansa will need your help tonight. Since her mother is not here, I am trusting you with this knowledge. It is dangerous, and you must not repeat it. Do you understand?"

Darra inclined her head. "I do, Maester Luwin."

"You must swear it, Darra. This secret - it could destroy Sansa's life if word were to spread. I know you are a loyal servant to the Starks, and I need your solemn vow."

Darra's voice shook as she did what he asked. 

Sansa was dazed. How could her life be in danger?

Some of the tension drained from Maester Luwin's shoulders when Darra was done. "Thank you," he said. "Truly, I'm not sure how we'd handle tonight without you."

Darra sounded faint. "Of course, maester. Whatever you need, I will do it."

Maester Luwin nodded. "Very good." He checked a page in the book he'd brought, then turned to Sansa. His brow was furrowed. "My lady, there is already a match for your omega mark."

Sansa's head swam. "But you haven't had time to send ravens-'

Maester Luwin gave her a rueful smile. "In this case, there is no need." He cleared his throat. "You already have a match, here in the Stark household."

Sansa:s chest tightened. There was only one man with a bloodline from a great house that made any sense. "Theon Greyjoy?"

Maester Luwin shook his head. "Jon Snow, my lady." 

***

"It's shameful, what tonight will bring," Darra said, "but we must keep you alive." She shook out the simple dress that was being prepared for Sansa. "And you can only survive this heat if you can look upon him." Separating an alpha and omega pair with matching golden marks would almost certainly kill them both, according to Maeser Luwin.

"But won't he-"

*He'll be chained to the wall," Darra said firmly. "And you will be across the room. We've prepared private chambers for you in a remote part of the castle." Sansa's heat was a closely kept secret. 

Robb had been informed that Sansa was ill, and would be confined to her chambers for a day. Jon had supposedly sustained an injury in the training yard. Robb would have looked more closely at the matter, if Maester Luwin had not pulled him aside to review the castle's accounts.

Hopefully this would all be over by sunrise. 

"But you must be able to look upon him. Since you will not be…"

"Yes, I understand,"

"You must be as exposed as possible without touching."

"What will happen to me? Maester Luwin only told me not to worry, but I could see he did not believe it." Her maester had spent hours in Winterfell's library, and devised the plan to chain Jon to the wall. When Valyrian omegas and alphas did not wish to pair bond - or when their families were deeply opposed to the couple - the family had taken the approach Maester Luwin had suggested. 

Sansa clutched at Darra's arm. She was desperate for knowledge of what was to come. Her parents never would have left Winterfell had they known this was a risk. Some small part of Sansa was relieved. She suspected her mother might have sacrificed Jon to save her. "What is it like, the first heat with…with your mate?" . 

Darra took a deep breath. Her alpha was Jory Cassel "My mark was green, of course, and so was his." The common folk's alpha and omega marks were never red or gold. "I was attracted to him from the very first moment I saw him." Darra smiled at the memory. 

Sansa squeezed Darra's hand. Her maid deserved nothing but happiness. Darra had been her maid for four years, since Sansa was fourteen, and Sansa thought of her as a dear friend. 

"We took the time to get to know each other. My heat came upon me three times before we shared a night together."

"How did you manage it? Being apart from him during that time?"

Darra worried her lip. "Omegas who aren't members of great houses can survive without their mates when they go into heat, though the experience is painful. I told Jory my time was upon me, and be left for Wintertown. As long as there was enough distance between us, we could endure it. Once we had gotten to know each other, and wished to wed, we shared our first night together."

Sansa's stomach twisted. This would be so much simpler if she and Jon were common folk. But the accounts in the history books were clear - she and Jon had no such luxury. Their golden marks have them no choice but to spend the night together, or perish. 

Darra patted Sansa’s arm. "I am sorry, dear girl, that you cannot love him. The act can be beautiful, giving yourself over completely. Your heat will come upon you quickly as the night approaches, and the moon rises. Your skin will grow hot, and your instincts will take over." Darra swallowed. "You will want to please him." She hesitated, then moved on to Jon. "Jon will…"

*He will want to mate with me." Sansa was not an entirely green girl. 

"Yes. What relieves the heat is … when the man spends inside the woman. Nothing else will do."

Sansa could not fathom that act with Jon.

Darra's brow furrowed. "It will be painful, dear girl, for you to endure this. I wish I could bear it for you." She cleared her throat, and went to Sansa's wardrobe. She pulled out a light blue dress and brought it over.

"Here, put this on now." Darra returned to the wardrobe, rustling through the clothes.

Sansa ran her fingers over the silky fabric. "But…it's freezing outside."

Darra handed Sansa her heaviest cloak, trimmed in fine white fur. "We'll make sure you're warm enough to travel to the west wing. When your heat begins, even this gown will seem unbearably warm."

Sansa blanched. "Will I want to take it off?" 

"Hopefully it won't come to that." 

Sansa slipped the dress over her head and Darra laces her into it. Darra's fingers were trembling. Sansa tried to settle her stomach. She'd stay clothed and safe tonight, and she and Jon could return to their normal lives.

There was a knock on the door. Jory would be waiting outside. "Come," Darra said, "it's time." 

***

Darra and Jory escorted her across the courtyard. Sansa kept her hood up against the cold, and wrapped her will cloak more tightly around her. A fine dusting of snow covered the ground. Sansa blushed, averting her eyes from the members of the household going about their business. The air was cold, and crisp. She and Darra hurried to the south wing, where a chamber had been prepared for her.

Jory left to retrieve Jon once they reached the door. Darra took Sansa's hand and left her into the room where, for better or worse, she would spend the next night.

In many ways the room was similar to her own. The windows were high and spacious, and a fire crackled merrily in the large hearth. Sansa sighed as the fire drove away the chill of the outdoors. All the furniture had been removed, however, save a large pile of silks, furs and pillows piled high in one corner of the small room. On the other side were two ugly slots in the wall, where Jon would be shackled. 

Sansa's mouth was dry. She turned back to the pillows. "Why is there no proper bed?" She'd never slept on the floor in her life.

"You will want to nest, afterwards, to create a kind of den."

"But there will be no coupling."

"It's likely you will want to rest this way regardless. This is easiest."

Food and wine had been made ready for her. Darra busied herself fussing over it. The sweet scent of honeyed figs lingered in the air, and Sansa's mouth watered at the sight of lemoncakes.

Darra smiled. "I made sure to bring some of your favorites, my lady."

Sansa smiled. She was grateful for the small act of kindness. But her heart sank when she glanced over to the other side of the room. There was a meager loaf of bread and a pitcher of water next to the slots in the wall. Sansa hated the difference between her pile of cushions and the stone floor Jon would sit on.

"Is Jon not even to have wine?"

"It's best if he has nothing to muddle his head. Please, my lady, trust me." Darra cocked her head. Sansa heard two sets of footsteps. "That will be Jory, with Jon. Go, sit."

Sansa did as she was told. The silks and furs were comfortable, though it was strange to sink down so close to the floor. Jory and Jon entered the room, letting a blast of cold air in. Sansa shivered. 

Jory bowed to her. "My lady." He carried a set of large, ugly chains. Jon slipped in behind Jory. Snowflakes melted in his hair. He refused to look at Sansa. 

Jory glared at Jon. "You, go, sit by the wall. Take your cloak off. Your shirt too."

Sansa couldn't help but speak up. "His shirt?"

Darra nodded. "Jon's blood will run hot too."

Jon pulled his shirt off, and Jory took his cloak from him.

"Leave it," Sansa said. Perhaps Jon could at least sit on it once he'd undressed.

Jory's mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Very well, my lady." Jon spread the cloak on the floor.

There, Sansa thought, at least he isn't sitting on the cold stones. 

"Thank you for bringing him, my love," Darra said. "And the chains." 

Jory nodded. "Told the blacksmith these were for the hounds in the kennels," He missed the look of pain that crossed Jon's face. Sansa's heart went out to Jon. He was a man, not a beast. 

Darra, ever practical, nodded her approval. "Sansa's settled. I'll leave you to it." Darra gave Sansa's hand one last squeeze before she left. 

Jory busied himself attaching the chains to the wall and the shackles to Jon's hands. He winced as Jory tightened the shackles. 

Sansa rose to her feet. "Don't hurt him!"

Jory didn't even look up. "He needs to be restrained, my lady." At last the task was finished. Jory gave Jon one last glare, then bowed to Sansa before he left. A resounding silence filled the room when the door slammed shut. Jon slunk to the floor and sat on his cloak. He didn't touch the bread, or the water. He still would not look at her.

"I'm sorry Jon, I truly am."

"It's not your fault, Sansa," Jon muttered.

Sansa raised her head. "Then I'm sorry for both of us."

Jon's face twisted into a bitter smile. "Aye."

"What did they tell you would happen? They told me very little."

Jon swallowed. "They said...when it came upon me…gods, must we talk of it?"

Sansa glanced out the window. The afternoon sun was waning. "It'll happen, soon enough, Jon. I'd rather know what you know, if you can tell me." 

Jon nodded heavily. "Very well. They said my blood would run hot, and I'd … " 

She could see him trembling. She couldn't bear it. She retrieved a flagon of wine from her side of the room. She poured a glass for Jon and one for herself, and approached him.

"Sansa, I'm not supposed to drink wine."

Sansa sighed. The sun was still an hour from setting. "I think we could both use it, don't you? I'd rather give this to you now while I still can." Jon hesitated, then nodded gratefully. He drained his cup, and she drained her own.

Sansa sat across from him. She played with her glass. "Are you scared?" 

Jon finally looked at her. His grey eyes were haunted. "I've been terrified ever since they told me."

"Why?"

Jon's mouth worked. "I'm scared of hurting you. I begged them to take me away from here, to Wintertown, anywhere else."

"But you would have died!"

"It's not a sure thing," Jon said unsteadily.

"It's almost sure," Sansa said. 

"I don't want to take this from you. Your…"

"My maidenhead," Sansa finished.

"You're a highborn lady. It's not as if we could marry," he said. They both chuckled at the absurdity of that idea. 

"I suppose that's true."

Jon grew serious. "But they say I'll go wild. That I'll be an animal bent on…"

"Mating," Sansa whispered. 

"Aye, that. It doesn't seem right, that blood can force you to such things. That it could make me hurt you. I know we're not close, but I've no wish to do so."

"I know you don't," Sansa said softly. She took one of his shackled hands in hers and laced their fingers together. 

"If it helps…" Sansa swallowed. "Well if this works we won't have to come to it, but they told me I'd want to please you-"

Jon cleared his throat. "It shouldn't matter. Maester Luwin told me these should hold me when…" Jon closed his eyes. Sansa stayed silent, trying to give him time to process what was to come. She glanced at Jon's chest. Her heart beat faster when she saw the mark there that perfectly matched her own. It looked a bit like a flowering vine. Sansa had thought hers was lovely, until she'd learned of her fate tonight. 

Sansa took a deep breath. "Maester Luwin told me this secret is being closely guarded. If tonight doesn't go as expected, well....maidenheads can break while horse-riding. You would not hurt my marriage prospects, Jon. And they'd give me moon tea, so you wouldn't get me with child either."

Jon tipped his head back against the wall. "That's something, then."

"I'm scared too. They say I'd welcome you but...it's hard to imagine. Not that your aren't fair to look upon," she added quickly.

Jon huffed out a laugh. "You needn't flatter me."

Sansa wished she could convince him. She'd found him handsome, these past few years. But nothing she said would make a difference. Jon mistook her silence for a different kind of concern. 

"Sansa, I won't let it happen."

Sansa knew it was not a promise he could rightfully make. But he sounded so gallant, like a brave knight, and she was grateful. 

She smiled at him, then returned to the silks and cushions, putting the length of the small room between Jon and herself. She poured herself another glass of Arbor gold. The wine buzzed in her veins.

"Robb told me he bested you in the training yard last week," she said lightly. "Is it true?"

"He did _ not_," Jon said, and she hid her smile. He sounded more like himself. 

Sansa settled back into her cushions. "Then tell me the truth of it," she said, taking a sip of wine. They chatted about inconsequential matters, and Sansa's fears dissolved. Neither she nor Jon noticed the sun setting. 

As Sansa reached for an apple, she flushed. She was suddenly hot all over. 

"Jon-" When she saw him now it was as if the air rippled between them.

"Jon I need to… I have to take this off."

Jon only nodded, but there was a flush on his skin too, and his eyes were darker.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa undid the laces of her dress. When the silk fell away and she was left in her shift, she sighed with relief. 

Sansa's mind started to float. Why was Jon shackled? She wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted him here with her in the silks and furs.

"Jon, come here," she said dreamily.

"Sansa, please don't say such things." Jon's voice was a warning.

"Why not?" A fire was building in her belly. She stepped closer to Jon, stroking herself over her shift absently. She hissed when she glided over her nipples. They hardened to buds beneath her touch, and she closed her eyes and pinched them. She moaned. 

"Sansa, go back. Go back to the cushions."

"But you need to see me," she said. Hadn't she been told that? "You need to see me in heat."

Jon's fingers flexed as if he wanted to touch her. Yes, she thought, yes _ please- _

"Sansa, do it now!"

She sighed, but complied. Tension coiled low in her belly. Jon's dark eyes were glittering. As she gazed at him, wetness trickled down between her legs. She reached under her shift and slid her hand up her thigh to relieve the ache. 

A low growl sounded from the other side of the room, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. She could smell Jon now, and he wanted her. She sighed as she stroked her wet folds, each touch sending sparks of lightning through her.

Her skin was hotter than before, and she pulled her shift over her head. Why had she been dressed in the first place? She wanted to put on a show for Jon, entice him to lay with her. She sank down onto the cushions. The silks felt cool against her heated skin. She spread her legs for him, and kept touching herself, building that tension inside her. Jon was hard and straining against his breeches. 

"Jon please, I need you." She sounded high and breathy to her own ears. 

Jon's voice was thick. "Sansa, stop-"

The pleasure between her legs was changing into a painful ache.

She stilled her hand for a moment but the pain was too much. "Jon I have to-"

He turned away from her with considerable effort, and she whimpered. Even having him look at her was better than nothing.

"Please, Jon, look at me. It hurts when you don't."

Jon slowly turned his head. His gaze burned with desire. She could feel it across the room.

"Jon, can I touch myself, please-"

"Sansa we can't talk. It's too much," he said desperately. 

"Do you not want me?" Tears sprung to her eyes.

"I - I want you," Jon said, as if the words were torn out of him. She was flooded with relief. 

"Please, at least let me touch myself for you."

Jon fought with himself. Sansa writhed in frustration. 

Jon raked his eyes over her naked body, her hardened nipples, the wetneess of her sex. She cupped her breasts, and flicked her thumbs over her nipples. That same hot jolt went straight to her core, and she moaned.

"_Fuck,_ Sansa-"

Her hand drifted down between her legs, but she waited for her alpha to give her permission. 

"Touch yourself," Jon finally growled. "Touch yourself for me."

Jon's voice was dark and she moaned at it. She tipped her head back, working her fingers over her pearl. The tension on her belly was an almost unbearable tightness.

"Please, keep talking-"

"You're so fucking gorgeous like this," Jon said. His voice was deep and rough.

Sansa was close, close to something, but she needed her alpha to help her get there.

"Tell me," she panted, "Tell me what to do."

"Two fingers, inside yourself, now." 

She did as he commanded, keeping her eyes on him. The chain slammed against the wall as her fingers slid inside her sex. She whined as she fluttered around her fingers. She moved her fingers haltingly at first, then found a rhythm.

Jon was sweating as he watched, drinking her in. The bulge in his breeches had grown larger, and yet somehow Sansa knew she could take every bit of him, that she'd been made for it

"Keep going," Jon rasped. "Faster." He licked his lips. 

"Jon, Jon - oh!"

Pleasure washed over her as she clenched around her fingers, but the aftermath left her worse off than before. She cried out. It was agony not to have him with her.

"Jon, I _ need _ you." Her voice broke. She did, she'd crawl to him if she had to….

This time both chains clashes against the wall and she realized Jon was struggling to free himself.

_ Yes yes yes- _

Sansa held out her arms to him. "Come to me, Jon."

He roared and the chains snapped and suddenly he was on top of her. She arched up to meet him in a desperate kiss.

He grabbed the back of her head and ravaged her mouth. She moaned. It was exactly what she needed, his skin on hers and his smell all around her. She twined her arms around his neck and opened herself to his assault. 

"Fuck, Sansa, fuck, _ mine- _"

"Yes," she panted, "yes, make me yours." She tore at his breeches. He swatted her away and rid himself of them.

Then they were naked together and Sansa felt as if the sky had opened up and swallowed them whole. Nothing else existed but the two of them here in this room.

Jon pinned her hands above her head and nipped and bit his way up her neck. She shuddered each time his teeth scraped across her throat.

She spread her legs for him, desperate for the feel of him. He thrust into her, and finally, _ finally _ her alpha was with her. She felt whole and complete, with him inside her. The pain quickly faded away, replaced by a frantic need. His gaze was dark, filled with lust and something deeper. 

"I can't stop," he panted, "Sansa I can't-"

*Don't, she said, "I don't want you to. Keep going, _ please _ ." She wound her fingers in his curls and held on for dear life as he pounded into her, her mate, her lover, _ yes yes yes- _

He released her hands, gripping her shoulders, and she shook with each thrust. She was lost in a haze of sharp sensation. She wrapped her legs around Jon and urged him on, _ harder, deeper _, until his rhythm started to stutter. She threw her head back when he spilled inside her, and that hot rush was the sweetest pleasure she'd ever felt. 

***

Jon had taken the furs and wrapped them around both of them. She welcomed the warmth, but she was more grateful for the heat of his body, and the fact that he's stayed by her side. 

She looked at him in the moonlight. Having her half-brother next to her should repulse her. But all she felt was a deep sense of affection for him. 

She snuggled into his side and inhaled his scent. It wasn't as powerful as if had been when they were caught up in the act, but it still calmed her. 

She knew he'd have to leave her, soon enough. They should separate now, given that Jory and Darra would return in the morning. She didn't know how she and Jon would explain the broken shackles, but perhaps Darra and Jory were prepared to lie about that too.

Jon stirred and opened his eyes. They were the shade of grey she remembered. There was uncertainty there, and it saddened her. Then he cupped her cheek.

"Sansa…." He swallowed and tried again. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. She could still feel the faint aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, I thought I could hold back."

There were tears on his cheeks. She brushed them away. 

"Jon, I would have come to you if you hadn't," she said. "I was about to crawl to you, do anything to ...well, to have you. You couldn't have stopped me." She wasn't sure if it was true - if he'd ordered her to stay where she was, she might have obeyed - but she wanted to shoulder some of this burden for him.

Jon took a shaky breath. 

"It felt good, Jon," she whispered. "It felt so very, very good." She was ashamed that she'd taken pleasure in it. She tucked her head under his chin and he shifted closer to her.

Jon brushed his lips over her hair. "Thank the gods for that, at least," he murmured. 

She looked up at him. "It's the gods that for us into this mess, isn't it?"

Jon smiled, and it transformed his face. She hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time. "I suppose they did."

She ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest. "Did you like it, Jon?"

"It was…" He reached for her hand and they laced their fingers together. "It was better than anything I've ever felt," he murmured. "Bigger than anything I'd ever felt." 

He raised himself up on his elbow and gazed at her. Jon had always been quiet, and serious. He preferred to take his time putting his thoughts together. "It felt as if we were one person," he said. "That I was complete, when I was in your arms."

"It felt that way for me as well. Can I…." She had no excuse to kiss him now, no way to touch him the way she wanted. "Would you hold me?"

Even that was on the edge of propriety. But Jon's expression softened and he gathered her up in his arms. She sighed softly. Her skin was cool and her head was clear, but she still longed for this. 

And she'd never have it again. The first heat was the most dangerous. She'd be married off to some prince, to secure an alliance. Jon would never be able to hold her in his arms. 

He smiled down at her. "Better?"

She felt safe, and secure, in his embrace. "Yes."

Jon hesitated, then kissed her cheek. That was on the edge of propriety too, but they'd done it once or twice before. He seemed reluctant to let her go.

"Jon ...the first heat, it can last until morning."

Jon frowned. "Is it still happening for you?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not. But we could pretend," she whispered. 

"Why would we do that?" Jon asked carefully. He was still holding her, and his fingers were still laced with hers.

"I know it's wrong, Jon. But if you feel the way I do, I'd like to lie with you again," she said. "When it's really us. We won't have another chance."

"I know," Jon said, and there was a note of melancholy in his voice.

"So could we? Tonight? Even if it's just to be in your arms," she said. "Just one night, away from the rest of the world."

"Aye," Jon said gently, "we could." 

Jon tucked her hair behind her ear. She shivered. Jon brought his lips to hers and kissed her softly. 

She sighed against his mouth, and kissed him back. He shifted in the furs and swept his hand over her hip. He stopped just before he reached her mark. 

He broke away and looked down. "Can I kiss it? Your mark?" His hand had gone instinctively to it before, when he'd broken his chains and taken her. "I didn't really see it, last time." 

Sansa nodded. He swept his thumb over the golden marks on her waist of her skin. She shuddered at his touch.

"Does it hurt?'

"No, it's lovely when you touch it." He smiled, and bent down to brush his lips over the spot. She felt a deep throbbing inside her. "Jon, that's so good." She reached up and brushed her fingers over his. 

He shivered, and looked down. "They really are the same," he said, as if he couldn't quite believe it. "Just the same."

"Can I kiss yours?"

He nodded. 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest. He made a sound like in his throat, and combed his fingers through her hair. 

"Lie down," he said. His eyes were shining like soft fire. "Lie down for me, Sansa."

She did as he asked. He followed her, cupping her head, kissing her gently. His lips were soft, and insistent, and she felt that same wetness between her thighs. When he slid his hand up her leg, she whined. 

He broke away. "Can I touch you here?"

Sansa already wanted to kiss him again. "Yes, _ please _." She reached for him, but he caught her hand and kissed it. 

"Wait, Sansa, I…." He rested his forehead on hers. "I'd like to watch you, see your face, when I do. It all happened so fast, last time."

She nodded, and he smiled at her. She parted her legs for him and he started to stroke her. She whimpered when he circled her nub. She held on tight to his shoulders as she ground down onto his hand. Tension coiled in her belly again, and she was strung tight, 

His grey eyes darkened as she ground down on his hand. "Beautiful," he whispered, "you're so beautiful, Sansa."

He brushed his nose against her cheek as she picked up the pace. He held her firmly at the waist, anchoring her as she rushed towards her peak. She cried out when he thrust a finger inside her. She wanted to bury her head in his shoulder, but she held his gaze. The burning desire there almost pushed her over the edge.

"Jon," she panted, "Jon, I'm going to-"

"There you are," he whispered, "there you are sweet girl, you're so close, I can feel you, come for me." 

She kissed him hard as she came for him, clenching around him, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her. He licked into her mouth, holding her steady, supporting her.

She pushed his hand away when she was too sensitive to take any more, and buried her face in his shoulder. He held her tight, murmuring endearments in her ear. 

She pulled back and reached down for him. He hissed when her fingers closed over his length. 

"Please, Jon, please, I need you." 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pushed into her, giving her time to adjust, keeping his strokes steady and even.

This time their coupling was slow, and sweet. She kissed him when his rhythm stuttered. The rush of his seed was softer, but her whole body responded, and she cried out at her as a second peak. Something shifted inside her, something permanent and profound. She felt as if he belonged to her, and she belonged to him. 

They curled up a second time. Sansa rested her head on Jon's chest. She wept, quietly, as he slept. She'd only made it worse. She could not imagine leaving him now.

***

Sansa jolted awake as someone pounded on the door the following morning. Jon's arm tightened instinctively around her waist. He rose up and pushed her behind him, shielding her with his body. 

"Who's there?" Jon's voice was deep, and Sanaa knew in her bones he'd keep her safe no matter what happened next.

Sansa heard the voice of her lady's maid. "It's Darra, my lady. Please open the door at once."

Sansa leapt up and scrambled through the cushions, searching for her shift. She grabbed it from underneath a pillow and slipped it over her head. Jon tugged his breeches on. She looked at him, at his disheveled hair, at the broken chains on the wall. They couldn't hide what had happened between them. The scent of their coupling permeated the small room. Sansa's cheeks burned with shame. 

A key sounded in the lock, and Jory and Darra entered. Sansa shrank back at the look of horror on Darra and Jory's faces when they found Jon standing in the middle of the room. 

Jory grabbed Jon roughly and hauled him away. 

Sansa wanted to run after him. She hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye. She almost wept. Being apart from Jon was like losing a piece of herself.

Darra tugged at Sansa's arm. "My lady. Look at me. Did he hurt you? Are you alright? Tell me, please." 

"N-no, he didn't hurt me, but we…." She trailed off as Darra stared at the wall. 

"I don't understand it," Darra murmured. "How could he possibly have broken those chains?"

"I'm sorry," Sansa was close to tears. "I'm sorry, I begged him to do it, it's my fault, please, I don't want anyone to hurt him. He didn't want to touch me, he tried so hard to stop. But it hurt, so much, to be near him and not be able to-"

Darra embraced her. "I can't imagine, being in heat and not having Jory with me, dear girl It must have been awful for you."

"It was awful for him, too." Sansa whispered. She hated how everyone seemed to forget that Jon was suffering as much as she was. 

Darra had busied herself searching for Sansa's dress, and didn't seem to be listening. She retrieved it, shook it out, and started to lace Sansa into it.

As Darra worked, Sansa's mind whirled. She'd been so content, so peaceful in Jon's arms once their first time was through. And he'd taken care of her, afterwards, wrapping her in furs to keep her warm and staying close to her side.

_ And then we woke, I asked him if we could lay together again, because I wanted to_. She couldn't admit that, not even to Darra.

*My lady." Darra squeezed her arm. "We must leave at once. Your mother and father have returned, and they wish to see you and Jon immediately."

"My...my mother and father?"

Darra nodded. She quickly braided Sansa's hair. "I wish we had more time to tidy you up, but Lord Stark insisted you and Jon come to him at once. Let's have a look at you." Darra pulled the dress over Sansa's shoulders, then stilled.

"Sansa…"

Sansa looked down. She'd torn the side seam of her shift in her eagerness to take it off, when she'd felt as if she was burning up inside. 

Her mark was visible through the tear. Sansa gasped when she saw it. What she'd thought of as a flowering vine had, in fact, bloomed in the night. Her mark was dotted with red and blue flowers.

It's like a song, Sansa thought, like the old songs sung in the Great Hall. Alpha and omega bonds were relatively common among great houses. But songs were sung of pairs with a deep, epic bond. Their golden marks were surrounded by color, like the illustrated manuscripts she'd seen once in Maester Luwin's books. Florian and Jonquil were said to share such marks.

She'd grown up on songs of destined lovers. She'd daydreamed of faraway places, the scent of crowns of roses in the air, tourneys and knights and pledges of devotion. Now she was in a room that held a dirty secret, with broken shackles in the corner. Her bastard half brother shared her illuminated mark, and he'd been torn away from her by an angry steward. 

Sansa shook her head to clear it. "What can it mean?"

Darra collected herself. Sansa had the impression that everyone involved in this endeavor, Darra, Jory, Maester Luwin, even herself and Jon - thought their matching marks were a mistake. Perhaps Jon's mark was not an exact copy for her own. But the colorful flowers adorning her skin - they meant she and Jon were destined to be together. 

Darra's hands trembled as she fastened Sansa's dress. "I'm sure I don't know, my lady, but your father will know what to do. Come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the low point for Jon and Sansa - everything gets better after this night, I promise! Also, Jory is eventually going to do his best to make up for his behavior. Up next, Ned and Cat come up with a plan. 
> 
> I'm still deciding if this fic should be six or seven chapters - the length won't change, I'm just debating where to put one of the chapter breaks. Let me know if you have a preference for longer or shorter chapters. Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark's past catches up with him, and he and Catelyn make hard decisions about Jon and Sansa's future together.

Ned stood by the windows in his chambers. It had been a long, hard ride home from the Eyrie. Maester Luwin had greeted them at the gate, bowing low, and ushered them inside. He'd never seen the old maester walk so quickly.

Finally, they were safely sequestered in the solar of the Lord's Chamber's, and Ned removed his cloak. Maester Luwin left to retrieve some books from the library. Sansa burst through the door with her lady's maid. Her eyes were downcast, and she twisted her hands together.

Catelyn hugged her. Sansa offered her mother a small smile. When Catelyn stepped back to take a look at her daughter, she frowned. 

"Darra, why is Sansa dressed in such a manner? This is no proper dress for winter."

"My lady, I-"

Just then, Jory came through the door with Jon. He marched him for my to the other side of the room, away from Sansa. Jon's shirt was also far too light for the cold weather outside. 

Ned took a step forward. "Jon? What's wrong? What is the meaning of this?"

Jon stared at the flagstones. Ned had seen the boy upset, or sullen, when Robb had insulted him and called him a bastard, or when Benjen had told him he was too young to travel to the Wall. But now, Jon was trembling.

Maester Luwin returned, with a stack of volumes under his arm. Ned went cold all over when he saw the familiar volume that recorded the marks of House Stark.

Maester set the books down on a table, and composed himself. 

"Lord and Lady Stark. I am glad you have returned home. Lady Arryn has recovered?"

"She has," Ned said evenly. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Maester Luwin glanced at Jon and Sansa. Jory and Darra were holding them apart, but Ned could sense the pull between his daughter and his nephew.

Between a Stark woman and a man of Targaryen blood. 

Maester Luwin cleared his throat. "Forgive me, but I thought you would want to be informed of this situation right away."

"Where is Robb?" Cat asked. "Why is he not here?"

Maester Luwin shifted his weight. "I thought it best not to inform him of these circumstances, my Lady."

Ned put a hand on Cat's arm before she could respond. "What circumstances are those?"

Maester Luwin's voice shook slightly. "Yesterday, Lady Sansa's mark appeared." 

Despite everything, Cat smiled at Sansa. It did Ned's heart good to see it. Sansa had been dreaming of her mark for many moons.

"That seems cause for celebration, rather than panic," Cat said. 

"Under normal circumstances, it would be, my Lady. But Sansa's match was already recorded in House Stark's book." Maester Luwin glanced at Jon.

No, Ned thought despairingly, please, no, the gods must have spared me this.

Cat regained her voice. "Theon Greyjoy?"

Maester Luwin shook his head. "Jon Snow, my Lady."

Ned felt as if the ground was rushing up to meet him. He wanted to fall to his knees, to buckle under the weight of the news. He wished he could curse the gods themselves.

He'd been Lord of Winterfell for many years, however. He shouldered this burden, just as he'd shouldered others. When he spoke, he spoke firmly and clearly. 

"And you were certain the marks were a match, Maester?"

"I was not, my Lord, but I thought it best to take precautions."

Ned's brow furrowed. "What sort of precautions? Sansa's mark will not change color for several months." I still have enough time to fix this, Ned thought. Surely, I still have time.

"Lady Sansa's mark was gold, rather than red, when it appeared."

Ned took a moment to collect himself. "I've never heard of such a thing." 

"Neither had I, my Lord. I studied the matter, and I found a few ancient accounts of gold marks appearing immediately."

Maester Luwin began to page through one of the old books he'd brought. Ned's heart sank when he saw the Targaryen sigil on the cover. He had to put a stop to this.

"Maester Luwin, being those books and come into our chambers. The rest of you, wait here."

"My lord." Darra's voice trembled. "I must tell you something. When I dressed Sansa, her mark had ...it had colored in? Almost as if…."

"It had been illuminated," Maester Luwin finished, looking at Sansa strangely. "Jon, is the same true for you?

Jon regained enough of his composure to lift the fabric of his shirt. "Y-yes, Maester Luwin." Jon looked at Sansa for the first time, and even a fool could see the warmth between them. 

Ned wanted to weep. Please, he thought, I can't bear to go through this. Not again.

Cat looked as if she was ready to strike Jon, but Ned managed to bring her inside their bedchambers. Maester Luwin followed.

"Bolt the door, Maester Luwin." Ned breathed a sigh of relief when the lock slid into place.

"Thank you. Now, please start from the beginning."

Maester Luwin inclined his head. "When I saw Sansa's mark, I went to the library to see what else I could learn. There are very few records of gold marks appearing on the same day in the same households, and they come from the oldest Targaryen histories. When two gold marks appeared at the same time, the omega went into heat that same night."

Cat sank into a chair. "Sansa?" Her voice was faint. 'Her first heat?"

'Yes my lady."

"I should have been here," Cat whispered, "I should have been here for her."

"In any other case you would have had months to prepare her, my Lady," Maester Luwin said gently. "But in this instance we had to act quickly."

He flipped the pages of the book, spreading the tome on the table. "I discovered this illustration, of an alpha male with a gold mark chained to a wall, and an omega bearing the same mark sitting across from him. According to the author, the pair was as exposed as possible without touching. As a result, they were able to survive their first heat. The chains were forged from Valyrian steel." 

Maester Luwin's turned the page. The next illustration showed a man and a woman together, with a pair of broken shackles in the corner. Cat turned her head away.

"The approach did not always work, my Lord. Sometimes the passion was too great. The alpha would break the chains and-"

"Yes," Cat said sharply, "we understand."

Measter Luwin ran his fingers over the links he wore around his neck. "Jon is no Targaryen, and I thought castle forged steel would hold him."

He picked up another volume and blew dust off the cover. He flipped to the center page, which bore illustrations of illuminated marks.

Ned willed himself not to look away.

Measter Luwin gestured to the page. "If what Darra and Jon say is true, and Sansa and Jon now have illuminated marks, then without a doubt their union was consummated. I'd thought I'd made a mistake, and Jon and Sansa's marks might not have been a perfect match. I thought the worst that would come of this would be Jon and Sansa spending an awkward night together. Please believe me, my Lord, my Lady, I never intended for this to happen." 

Cat frowned. "Why did you not tell Robb?"

"I was not sure he would ...be able to make an unbiased decision on this matter, my Lady. Sansa is his sister."

Cat rose from her chair. "That was not your choice to make!"

Ned broke in. "Cat, please. Maester Luwin, you were right not to put Robb in that position. He might have sent Jon away, risking both Jon and Sansa's lives." 

Ned cleared his throat, and lied. "I've only heard of illuminated marks before, in fanciful songs and stories. Are there any factual accounts of such pairings?"

'There are only a few, my Lord. If the alpha and omega marks are illuminated after the coupling…..I am sorry to tell you this, but they are bound together. Every single pair recorded has chosen to wed, and refused any other mates."

There were tears on Cat's cheeks. Ned stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own.

Ned nodded. "Thank you, Maester. Please leave us, for now. Make sure Jon and Sansa remain in the solar. And bolt that door as well."

Maester Luwin bowed and took his leave. 

As soon as the door shut, Cat rounded on Ned. 

"How could Maester Luwin let this happen, Ned? Why didn't he consult Robb?"

"Cat-"

She rose, and paced. "Sansa is ruined, and what's worse, she cares for him! It's sick and twisted and wrong!"

"Cat, stop." He could see the accusation in her gaze. If he hadn't brought his bastard son home with him, Sansa would still be a maid. 

Ned took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something. And I need you to wait until I'm finished."

Something in his tone silenced her, and she sat.

He closed his eyes. All at once he was back in the smoky tower. Rose petals, the scent of blood, and floating over it all, Lyanna's plea.

_Promise me, Ned_.

I tried, he thought, I tried, but now my daughter and your son are in danger, and I need my wife by my side if we are to see this through.

_Forgive me, Lyanna._

He'd kept the secret so deeply buried. He'd ached with the pain it had caused his wife, all these years. He'd borne it, for Lyanna, for Jon. But somehow the truth of Jon's birth had risen from the depths, and he had to confront it, here in this room. 

He remembered crossing Dorne with Jon in his arms, grains of sand whipping across his face. He and the wet nurse had shielded Jon with burlap, and Howland had held him when their strength failed.

All that way. They'd brought him all the way, to Winterfell. Ned had wrapped him in a different kind of protection. He'd given him a home and a bastard name. He'd sacrificed his honor, and torn a rift in his marriage to keep Jon safe. 

Howland had offered to take Jon, but Ned had to make this sacrifice himself. 

What was past was past, and the only way forward was the truth.

"Jon is not my son."

Catelyn gripped her chair, her knuckles white. Her mouth fell open.

Ned braced himself for tears, recriminations, shouting. Only one word escaped her in a whisper.

"Why?"

Ned saw the pulse racing at her throat.

"All these years, why?"

"After the war, we found where Rhaegar had taken Lyanna. He'd locked her in a tower in Dorne."

"Lyanna?" Cat's brow furrowed. "How did you find her?"

"Dying," Ned said grimly, "bleeding to death on her birthing bed, holding her son in her arms."

_He's beautiful, isn't he?_ Lyanna had been weak, exhausted, her voice no more than a whisper. But he'd seen in her the same pride he'd seen in his wife when she'd held Robb, and Sansa, and Bran, and Rickon.

Ned sighed deeply. "I couldn't save her, Cat, I couldn't. She begged me to take her son, and tell no one of his birth."

"Robert," Cat said softly. "Robert would have killed him if he knew." She began to pace again. "Robert still would. He's the rightful-"

Ned could not bear to hear that truth spoken aloud.

"Jon can never know. No one else can ever know. And my love - there’s something else I need to tell you."

Jon's eyes had been blue when he was just a babe, and Ned had spent years worrying they might shade into violet as he grew older. Ned had allowed himself to breathe when Jon was a small sullen boy of five, with stormy grey eyes and dark hair. Jon had no hint of Rhaegar in him. 

Not until now. 

He’d lied to Maester Luwin. He himself had seen an illuminated mark, on Lyanna’s wrist. It had gleamed in the tower, three golden spirals adorned with blue and red. The pallor of her skin had made the mark shine out all the clearer. His sister and Rhaegar Targaryen had borne matching illuminated marks, he was sure of it. They’d been soulmates, and they’d torn the realm apart. 

Ned took a deep, shuddering breath. 

"Lyanna had an illuminated mark as well.”

Cat stopped short. “Are you certain?”

"I saw Lyanna’s, and Rhaegar’s must have matched. Please know, Cat, I thought we were safe. You bear no mark, and neither do I. Robb has no mark either. Even if somehow this had come to pass, and a daughter of ours had a mark that matched Jon’s, I would have had six months to fix it, while her mark was still red. We could have married Jon off. I never knew that two golden marks could appear at once. Perhaps that’s what happened to Rhaegar and Lyanna. Perhaps that’s why gave her that crown of love and beauty.” A crown that had killed her, Ned thought. They must write a better ending for Jon and Sansa's story.

He took his wife's hand. He traced over the ring he'd given her in the godswood, after ten years of marriage. A silver band with a topaz stone that matched the blue of her eyes. He could still recall Cat's soft smile.

After the years they'd spent together, the love they'd built was strong as the castle walls, except for this crack in the foundation at its center. "I wanted to tell you, Cat." 

Cat paused, then nodded to herself, as making a choice.

"You couldn't have told me, not at the beginning. We didn't know each other, Ned."

He nodded miserably. "And the story grew, and grew, and having me as Jon's father was the best way to keep him safe. I know how it's hurt you." He tucked a lock of her dark auburn hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, my love."

Cat took his hands in hers. "It will take time, but if Lysa had a similar secret, I would have taken it to my grave. You and I we were strangers when we met.” 

"Aye," he said. He thought back on all the years they'd spent together, and how they'd come to love each other. "Not anymore." He allowed himself the hint of a smile.

Cat bit her lip. "We can't tell Jon. We can't tell anyone."

"No," Ned said, "but we may be able to do something else. Howland Reed knows, and Howland Reed's wife passed away several years ago." 

"That poor woman," Cat murmured. "Jojen and Meera were such beautiful children, and then the fever took them."

Ned nodded. "He hasn't remarried. I will go with Jon to Howland, and Howland will take Jon in as his own."

"Would Howland do such a thing?"

"He was there, Cat. He knows. He shares the burden of this secret. Jon and Sansa - their illuminated marks llink them together. Perhaps if they were only gold, we could pass Jon off somehow. Help Sansa survive. But there's no hiding it now, and we can't tear them apart.”

"So we lie," Cat said.

Again, Ned thought heavily. Yet again. "We do. This way, Sansa can marry. You've seen the way they look at each other. I know this isn't what you wanted for Sansa."

"I didn't," Cat said. She smoothed her skirts. "I didn't, not at all, but they're bound to their fate, and we must help them through it." The corner of her mouth twisted. "Our little girl. She's marrying a prince and she'll never know it. Howland will have to write to Robert to legitimize him."

Ned nodded. "Jon's mark, unadorned, will be recorded here after Jon leaves. House Reed will be informed when we arrive that Jon's mark is already recorded. Jon's illuminated mark must be kept secret while he is at House Reed. Sansa's mark will be recorded, in red, after Jon has left."

"Won't it be risky, having matching marks in the book here at Winterfell?"

"Better that than risk the maester at House Reed learning the truth," Ned said. "Howland will write to Robert, and ask him to legitimate Jon. Since House Reed has no heirs, Robert will likely sign it, to avoid any inheritance issues in a great house."

"Sansa cannot marry until Jon has been legitimized," Cat said firmly.

"No, she cannot. We will just have to hope that Robert signs the petition quickly." Ned hesitated. "I could write to Robert myself."

Cat shook her head. "Better that it comes from Howland. Robert might well have questions for you about Jon, but once the deed is done, and Jon is Howland's heir, it will not be worth undoing."

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose."No matter how we do this, it's risky. Robert might not sign the petition. The maester at House Reed could uncover the truth."

"We'll send Jory with you and Jon," Cat said. "Jory will remain, in your stead. He will understand what's at stake. Jon will simply have to do the best he can."

Ned sighed. "So much that can go wrong."

"We must be strong for Jon and Sansa," Cat said, with steel in her voice. "See this through."

Ned kissed her hand. "Thank you, my lady. Truly, this is more kindness from you than I deserve."

Cat flushed. "Sansa is our eldest daughter and Jon....well, Jon deserves protection too. We will be marrying Sansa into a small Northern house to a man who was once her half-brother. There will be questions. There will be rumors. Jon will have to leave with the question of his legitimacy hanging over his head."

"He will, but there's nothing to be done about it. We were lucky, Cat. Saved by Maester Luwin's quick thinking. Between the scandal of our own blood uniting and the risk of using Howland to legitimize Jon, we have only one choice."

Cat nodded, and Ned called for Maester Luwin again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted Ned to be able to tell Cat the truth, and here we are! Next chapter will be a bit of Sansa and Jon sneaking around :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa sneaks into Jon's room to say goodbye before Jon leaves for House Reed. Things escalate between them, and they're almost caught in the act.

Sansa’s pulse raced as her mother and father opened the door. Her father nodded to all of them in turn. “What I am about to tell you cannot ever leave this room. Do you understand?” Her father had drawn himself up to his full height, and he seemed to loom over them.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, father.”

“Yes, Lord Stark,” Jon said, soft enough that Sansa had to strain to hear him.

“Darra? Jory? Maester Luwin?” Her father extracted promises from each of them in turn. 

He looked at Jon, and suddenly her father seemed far older than his years. 

“Jon, this will be hard for you to hear, and I am sorry for it. You are not my son.”

Jon paled, and Jory had to keep him from stumbling. “Lord Stark?”

“It’s true, Jon. You are Howland Reed’s bastard son.”

Sansa felt as if she was swimming through molasses. Everything happened in slow motion. 

She looked at her mother. She knew something of what her mother had suffered, believing that her husband had brought home a bastard to mock her all these years. In truth, he’d brought another man’s bastard home. But why? Her mother didn't not look as if she was questioning her father's story. They were a united front. 

Before she or Jon could ask any more questions, her father turned to her. 

“Sansa, in the histories, a mated pair that shares marks such as yours and Jon's often chooses to stay together. Is that what you want?” Her father asked carefully. 

Years later, Sansa would wonder why her father had encouraged her to marry Jon, someone who she had, so recently, considered a half-brother. But the relief that swept through her in that moment overrode everything else. 

“Yes,” she said, looking at Jon, “it is for me.” 

“It is for me too,” Jon said. The rest of the world fell away, and all she saw was his soft smile.

Her father breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Here's what's to be done. Jon, I will accompany you to Castle Reed. You will live there for a year accompanied by Jory.” He turned to Maester Luwin. “Have you recorded Sansa's mark?”

Maester Luwin nodded. “I have, my Lord.”

Her father sighed. “Maester Luwin, we hold you in high regard, and what I ask you to do next will no doubt be difficult for you. But it is designed to preserve Jon and Sansa's safety. We already owe you a debt for your quick thinking in saving both of their lives.” He pointed to the book containing Jon and Sansa's marks. “I need you to re-copy that page. Omit Sansa’s mark. You will record it again, in six months, as a red mark. It will turn golden in time for the wedding.”

Her father turned to Jon. “Jon, I will accompany you to Castle Reed. We will explain the matter to Lord Reed, and he will write to the king to legitimize you. A few months later, we will announce Sansa’s mark, and there will be already be a match for it here at House Stark. I wish we could record your mark at House Reed, but given its...illuminated nature, it would not be proper. Jory, you will accompany myself and Jon, and you will stay with Jon until Sansa arrives. You will ensure that no one - no one - examines Jon or sees his mark. Do you understand?”

Jory was pale. “I do, my Lord.”

Her father nodded. “We erase this moment in history. Jory, destroy those shackles, melt them down.”

Maester Luwin broke in. “I am sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to demean your son.”

Ned clapped him on the shoulder. “You made a hard decision at a challenging time. You saved my daughter, and Howland Reed's son. Now, we will ensure they have a future together.”

***

Sansa knew that she and Jon were not supposed to be seen together before Jon departed. She’d obeyed her parents until now, no matter how much it hurt being separated from Jon. Jon was riding for House Reed tomorrow, however, and Sansa couldn't bear the thought of not speaking to him in private one last time.

She knocked on Jon's door that afternoon. A year, she thought desperately, a whole year, without him. 

"Come in." Sansa eased the door open. Jon was standing in the middle of the room. Trunks were thrown open, and clothes lay strewn about. He was dressed for bed, in a simple shirt and trousers. His fireplace was smaller than hers. Goosebumps rose on her arm. She was grateful that she'd slipped her cloak over her night rail. Just in case she was caught, she could claim she'd only meant to catch a breath of fresh air before retiring. 

“Sansa.” Jon exhaled in a rush. His fingers twitched, as if to touch her, but he stayed where he was. She closed the door carefully behind her, then bolted it. She ran to him. He caught her and pulled her close. 

“We shouldn't,” he whispered against her ear. “We're not supposed to, it's dangerous.” He stroked her hair, though, and tipped her chin up to meet him.

She smiled. "I had to Jon, at least once, before you go." She reached for him and kissed him. He groaned, and for a second he seemed to lose himself in kissing her, biting at her lip, cupping the back of her head.

Gods, how was she supposed to endure it, a year without the taste of him, without his scent, without the warmth of his embrace? 

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He walked her towards the bed. She tugged at his shirt, pulling him on top of her, before he came to his senses and sat up. “Wait, Sansa, wait. I'd...I'd like to show you something Jory gave me.”

She sighed, but nodded. Jon retrieved a box from his nightstand. He opened it. Sansa saw the flash of brass, and caught the scent of candle wax.

“What is it?”

Jon took a deep breath. “I'd like to write to you, while we're apart. Get to know you better. To…" he blushed.

“To what, Jon?”

“To court you. Like you might have been, by a prince, by someone you chose.”

Warmth bloomed in Sansa's chest. “Jon, you don't need to.” 

He took her hand. “I want to Sansa, if you'll let me. I talked to Jory-”

Sansa frowned. "He treated you so cruelly, Jon. You shouldn't listen to what he has to say.”

Jon shook his head. “He gave me this box. Lord Stark had this set of seals made for him and Darra, so they could send each other scrolls while Jory comes with me.”

“I hate to think we're keeping them apart,” Sansa murmured. She peered at the box. Two brass seals were set in velvet, and there was green candle wax in a separate compartment. She picked up one of the seals, surprised at its weight. She'd expected to see the symbol of House Stark, but the seals were embossed with something else entirely - nothing more than a plain circle.

“He wants us to have these. Darra does too. That way you and I can write to each other, and no one will know. They'll think the scrolls are between Darra and Jory.”

Sansa tilted her head. “But Darra and Jory won't be able to use them.”

“Jory told me he couldn't imagine being apart from Darra for a whole year, after they were married.”

Sansa turned the seal over in her hand. It was a peace offering, an apology, for the way he'd treated Jon.

“I'm still angry at him,” she grumbled, and Jon laughed.

“I'm not. He was just trying to protect you, Sansa, and now he's trying to help us.” He placed the box back on the nightstand and took her hand again. “May I write to you?”

Sansa could see it, scrolls back and forth, between her and Jon. Secret letters no one else would see. “Does Maester Luwin know?” 

“He does, and he'll give the letters directly to you.”

“Do mother and father know?”

“Maester Luwin said they did.” 

It was another piece of a grand story, Jon courting her from afar. She thought about sitting at her desk in the mornings, dipping her quill in the inkpot, telling Jon about her day. She faltered. She was no Jonquil. “I'm not sure there will be much to tell, Jon. How much do you want to know about sewing and the high harp?” He might tire of me, she thought. Something twisted in her chest. 

“Tell me anything you'd like. They won't be dull, Sansa, they'll be from you, and from Winterfell. Jory told me Darra would have a matching box waiting for you."

Sansa toyed with the sleeve of his shirt. “I'm sorry you have to leave.” 

“So am I, but this will help. Will you think about it? Open mine, at least?”

Jon bit his lip. Sansa's squeezed his hand. He was leaving, for a whole year, leaving behind the only home he's ever known. She almost opened her mouth to ask him how he was dealing with her father’s revelation about Howland Reed. She hesitated. Jon had been angry when her father had told him the truth. He'd been tense, too, just like he was now. She decided to comfort him instead. 

“Of course, Jon. Perhaps you can use mine to help you drift off to sleep.”

Jon smiled at her, and her heart constricted. She reached up and touched his cheek. She was nervous about the question she wanted to ask. “Jon ...have you been thinking about that night?”

He flushed, but nodded. He shifted closer to her on the bed. 

“More than I should. Some days I think of little else.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head so that he kissed her mouth instead. She whined at the press of his lips, soft and chapped. He was hesitant at first, then eager, as he deepened the kiss.

She broke away, and whispered in his ear. “When we’re together next-” His fingers flexed at her waist, covering her mark, and she whimpered. “What do you want most?

She’d been tugging him down to the bed, but he pulled back. “I'm ...I'm not sure.”

Sansa was fairly certain he was, given the hunger in his eyes and the way he'd slipped his tongue into her mouth. “Jon, you're my alpha, I want this. It feels right, it feels good. Do you think I'm wrong, for wanting you that way?”

Jon frowned. “Of course not.” 

“Then you shouldn't feel wrong for wanting me the way you do. I want you to tell me. I don't want to be alone.”

Jon captured her mouth again, more firmly this time, pushing her down on the bed. He took her wrists and held then above her head. She arched her back. 

“I like pinning you,” he whispered. “But I worry, later, that you feel trapped when I do.”

“I don't, Jon, it feels free, and safe.”

“When I'm holding you down?” 

“Yes, because I know you want me and you'll take care of me. I can tell how strong you are. I love feeling your weight on top of me, keeping me in place.” Sansa nuzzled behind Jon’s ear, and he shuddered. 

“I like your scent, sweet girl, it's incredible. When you're in heat and you're waiting for me, it's intoxicating, it drives me wild…" He nosed at her hair, scenting her neck, and she tipped her head back to give him better access. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and plunged his other hand into her hair. She whimpered when she felt him press down on the back of her neck. She rocked against him mindlessly. Jon growled, low and soft. She felt the heat rolling off him in waves and the hard length of him against her dress. 

“Marking you,” he whispered, “biting you.” 

Sansa shivered. “Yes, Jon, I love it.”

“I want the world to know you're mine.” He kissed her again, pushing her into the mattress. Sansa held on for dear life as he ground against her. Heat coiled in her belly. She stroked him through his breeches and he groaned and pinned her harder. “Want to get a child on you, see you swell with our babes, spill in you over and over and over again, until-”

“Until your seed takes,” she whined, and he put his teeth on her neck, bucking up into her with one hard thrust.

“Fuck, Sansa want that so much.”

Sansa hiked up her skirts. Her blood was singing in her veins. "Jon, I need you, need you inside me, please.”

Jon sucked in a breath, and her heart soared when he reached down to his laces. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “We can’t,” he said slowly, “it’s too risky.” 

Sansa’s head was spinning. She had her alpha with her, and if she couldn’t have him inside her, she wanted to submit to him in some other way. She put a hand on Jon’s chest. He stopped, breathing heavily. His hair was mussed and his lips were red from kissing. She dropped to her knees. “Please, before you go-” She fumbled with the laces of his breeches. “Please let me do this for you Jon, I want to.” She did, she was slick between her legs, and this felt so right, being on her knees for him. 

Jon’s eyes widened, but he took her hands, pulling them away from his laces. 

Sansa wanted to cry with frustration. “Jon, you won’t get a babe on me, please-”

“No, Sansa.” Jon’s voice was deeper, and it sent a shiver through her.

She stopped. “Do you not want me to?” She whispered.

“Fuck,” Jon muttered. His cock was straining against his breeches. “Sansa, you can’t. You’re a lady, I’m a bastard. It’s not right, for you to be on your knees for me.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I won’t let you.” He touched her cheek gently, and Sansa was surprised to see the tears he brushed away. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. “I swear to you, sweet girl, once we’re wed, you can. Gods, I want you to, so much, you’ve no idea, but we have to wait.”

Sansa nodded. She pressed her cheek to his leg. He sifted his fingers through her hair, calming her. She knew if she reached for him again, she might be able to convince him. Jon was her alpha, though, and he was trying to take care of her. 

Suddenly, someone pounded on Jon’s door.

“Jon! Let me in, it's Robb, why do you have your door locked?”

Sansa began to panic. Jon took control of the situation. “Sansa.” He pulled her up to her feet, and kissed her forehead. "Go. Stand by my luggage. You were here to help me pack. Tell him I’d forgotten my gloves, my cloak, anything else you can think of."

"Jon, I'm frightened-"

"You can do this, Sansa.” He gave the back of her neck a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Sansa stumbled forward. She did as he said, and picked up a pair of gloves and an oilskin cloak from the top of Jon's trunk. 

Jon smoothed his hair, and unlocked the door. 

Robb's brow creased when he stepped into the room. "Sansa? What are you doing in Jon's room? Why is the door bolted?"

Sansa smiled at Robb. She was coming back to herself by degrees, and Jon’s steady presence on the bed reassured her. When she spoke, she sounded like herself. “Just helping Jon pack, and good thing I did.” She held up the gloves and the oilskin cloak for Robb. “I had to remind him to bring gloves, and an oilskin cloak in case it rains." She turned and gave Jon an exasperated smile. “Honestly, Jon.”

Robb snickered. “I suppose that makes sense, Jon needing a bit of help.”

Sansa tossed the gloves and cloak into the trunk. “He's lucky to have us. I'll leave you two to say good-bye.”

Sansa steeled herself. Only a moment ago she's been begging Jon to bite and mark her. Now she had to step into an entirely different role.

She leaned in and quickly kissed Jon's cheek. “We’ll miss you, Jon.”

Robb smiled at her as she left. Once the door was shut behind her, she closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop racing. She understood, now, the danger she’d put them both in.

I’d do it again, she thought defiantly, just to be with him. When she had control over herself, she made her way back to her room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robb nearly caused a disaster, didn't he? Next up - Sansa and Jon write letters to each other, and become increasingly desperate to reunite.
> 
> Edit: Okay kids, moderated commenting is on. I've been clear about what this fic does and doesn't cover. As a reminder, this story focuses on Jon and Sansa's developing relationship, and does not delve into the details of Ned and Cat's plans regarding Howland Reed. The majority of this story is from Sansa's POV.. During Ned's last POV he'll reflect a bit on the unfolding of the scandal, and there will be a few scattered hints here and there, but that's it. If this isn't the story for you given those circumstances, fine, but I'm not interested in hearing about it. Everyone else, enjoy! Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've moved some of the discussion of Ned and Cat's plan to this chapter, along with the reaction of others. I've also made a few tweaks to the timeline. As always, please remember that this story focuses on the relationship between Jon and Sansa. Moderated commenting is on. If you don't like Ned and Cat's plan, that's fine, but I'm not interested in hearing about it. Enjoy!

**Sansa**

Darra was waiting for her when Sansa returned. Sansa broke down, and confessed to sneaking into Jon’s room. Darra sighed, but didn’t seem surprised. She was pleased that Sansa and Jon had devised a good cover story. Darra made Sansa sit in front of her vanity, so that she could brush out her hair for the night.

Sansa picked at the dinner Darra had brought up for her. Her lord father was announcing Jon’s trip to House Reed tonight in the great hall. Her mother and father told her to stay in her room. They wanted to spare her from the scene the lords would make.

Darra had brought her a small tray of lemoncakes for dessert, sprinkled with sugar. Only Old Nan made the cakes with a sugar topping, Sansa selected a cake, making sure not to muss her dress. The sharp tang of the lemon was so delicious that Sansa almost licked her lips. She caught herself in time and patted her mouth with a napkin. Darra arched an eyebrow at her – nothing escaped Darra’s notice – and they both smiled. Sansa tried to relax as the brush swept through her hair. Usually, this was one of her favorite times of the night. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jon, though, and what he must be going through. She wasn’t sure exactly how she could help him, but she wanted to.

“What is it, my dear?”

Sansa smoothed her skirts. Trust Darra to pick up on her distress, even if she hadn’t said a word.

“It’s nothing, Darra.”

Darra hummed, and went about her task.

Sansa twisted her fingers together. Finally, she spoke. “Jon…he’s alone down there, in a way, in front of that crowd. I know he has his family with him.” Sansa’s stomach twisted. Jon might not feel that he did, given the lies his family had told him. “I wish I could be there for him, comfort him, take his hand, reassure him somehow. Perhaps if no one was paying attention I could kiss his cheek–“

Darra paused. “I’m sure Jon would love to have you with him–“

Sansa broke in, pleading with her. “Please, let me go, only for a few minutes, I’ll come right back–“ 

Darra sighed. “But, my lady, as I was going to say, do you think those impulses might be part of the reason your mother and father wanted you to stay here tonight?”

Sansa looked down, ashamed.

“Sansa.” Darra set down the brush, and spoke gently. “I know how hard this is, and I wish I could make it easier for you. Did Jon tell you about the seals when you visited his room today?”

Sansa almost smiled. Darra’s question was a carefully placed reminder of how close she’d already come today to giving into her instincts. She took a few deep breaths.

“He did.” She turned to Darra. “I’m sorry that you and Jory won’t be able to write to each other.” Sansa stopped, afraid of giving voice to one of her greatest fears. “I’m worried that whatever I have to write to him won’t interest him. Florian and Jonquil had a great love, but Jon and I…” 

Darra pulled the brush through Sansa’s hair again. “My lady, Jon will be happy to marry _you_, not Jonquil. And I’m glad for you both. You’ll be free to love him.” 

Sansa did smile then. “I remember what you said, that first night.” 

Darra nodded. “But in truth, my lady, I was relieved when Jory asked me if we could spare the scrolls.” 

“Relieved? Why?”

“I know Jory, his wishes and wants. I’ve learned about him, over the years, and it’s brought us closer together.” Darra smoothed Sansa’s hair. “You and Jon – you’ve never been close, have you? And rightly so. With him being your bastard brother, and Lady Stark...well, it stands to reason. But now, in many ways, he’s unknown to you.” Darra paused, then resumed brushing. “Jon will go through some significant changes now that he’s a mated alpha.”

Sansa felt a tremor go through her. “Change?”

“He’ll become more confident, stronger, and more protective towards you. Have you noticed it?”

Sansa thought back. Jon had guided her through the moment with Robb, taking charge to make sure she was safe.

“Yes, I think so.”

Darra nodded. “So, it’s started, then. He’s coming into his own, as an alpha. It’s going to be painful for him to leave you, but it’s best for him to leave quickly.” Darra pressed her lips into a thin line, but when she spoke, she spoke mildly. “Thankfully, your father has, at last, made preparations. The longer Jon’s here, and he’s kept from you, the worse it will get.”

Sansa knew Darra well enough to understand the deep disapproval that ran beneath _thankfully_ and _at last_.

“And you should get to know Jon – the new Jon – over the next year. He’ll miss you dearly, Sansa. No matter what you write, every time he opens a scroll from you it’ll be like having you with him.” Darra glanced at her in the mirror. “It may help prevent him from riding back here for you.”

“He’d do that?” Sansa said faintly. 

“He might,” Darra said. “Or he might want to try. Jory and I were separated when we went through our first heats, before we’d decided to marry. We wrote to each other to make the separation less painful. But after we married, those first few years...I’m not sure what Jory might have done if we’d been forced apart.”

Sansa’s heart sank. “You and Jory will have to be apart, just like Jon and I will.” Sansa turned to face Darra. “I don’t want to cause you any pain.”

Darra smiled at her. “My dear girl. You see the streaks of grey in my hair, don’t you?” Darra had beautiful long black hair, shot through with silver, that she kept bound back from her face. 

Sansa huffed. “Darra, you’re not old, don’t say such things.”

Darra put a hand on her shoulder. “Jory and I have been together for fifteen years. Those first few years of passion – they shift into something deeper and softer.” Darra’s gaze was far away, blissful, and Sansa hoped she was thinking of Jory. “A year apart will not hurt us. But you and Jon are in the thick of it at the beginning. We want to help you, Sansa, you and Jon. We were–” Darra looked down. “We were wrong, about the two of you, and we’re sorry we treated Jon in such a manner.”

Sansa almost told Darra not to worry, that there was nothing to forgive. But then she remembered Jon’s chains, and Jory’s scowl, and how her favorite treats had looked next to Jon’s dry piece of bread. 

She ran her fingers over the lid of the box. “This is very kind of you. And – I forgive you.” She could not speak for Jon, but she could speak for herself.

Dara flushed. “I’m grateful, my lady. And Jory and I want to give you and Jon the chance to grow closer to each other while he’s gone. I’d like you to learn about your alpha, Sansa,” she said softly. “He’s not Florian. He’s your mate, and he’ll be your husband. Don’t fret too much about what you write. Every scroll from you will feel like a gift, and I hope it will be the same for you.”

Sansa threw her arms around Darra’s neck. She rarely hugged Darra – Darra was her lady’s maid, after all, not her family – and it wasn’t a proper thing to do. But Darra was sacrificing her own happiness to help her, and she loved her for it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course, my dear.” Darra cleared her throat, and quickly wiped at her eyes. “Let’s get you ready for bed, now.”

***

**Ned**

Jon had been hostile and withdrawn since Ned told him about Howland Reed. Ned’s heart ached for him. Over the past few weeks, he’d grown more and more restless, prowling the courtyard at night. When Ned asked him about it, he’d said that he was eager to be gone. Ned knew that was a bald-faced lie. Jon and Sansa looked at each other every day as if their hearts would break when they were separated. Jon was gentle with Sansa. He treated her with kindness, trying to calm her nerves, and despite everything Ned was else, Ned was glad to see it.

With others, Jon was short and curt. That curtness extended to Jon’s brief exchanges with Ned outside the castle walls. Jon had something else to say to him, but he simply wouldn’t come out with it. Ned blamed himself. The lie he’d told Jon ate him up inside, but he couldn’t imagine what Jon was going through.

Tonight, Jon had picked the worst possible moment to lash out. Cat had cautioned Ned against telling all the lords at once about Jon’s birth, but Ned thought it was the honest thing to do. He’d always been frank with his men, and they needed to know why Jon was leaving for good.

He’d expected the outrage. He’d expected the uproar. What he hadn’t expected was for Jon to _encourage_ them.

The torches in the great hall flickered over his men’s faces, contorting and twisting their features. Jon had left the high table and joined them. He’d goaded the crowd, and he’d focused their anger to a flashpoint with one question. _Yes, Lord Stark, tell us – why did you lie to me?_

Ned contained his fury, and dismissed his men. Cat was already by his side, her head bent, offering advice. He told Robb to take Jon to the Lord’s Chambers. Both Robb and Jon were to stay there, and wait until he and Cat spoke to them. Ned dreaded what came next.

***

The solid oak door of the Lord’s Chambers closed behind Ned with a solid thunk. Robb and Jon were waiting in the solar. Cat stood by the window, lost in thought. She’d pulled back the curtain. The moonlight washed over her. Even though they were deep in the midst of a crisis, Ned’s breath still caught at how beautiful she was.

Cat shivered, and wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders. Ned put another log on the fire, building it up until it crackled and popped. Cat gave him a small, distracted smile, and came to stand next to him.

Ned watched the flames dance and writhe. A weight settled in his stomach as he thought about how the firelight had transformed the faces of his men tonight. He ran a hand over his face. Weariness crept into his bones.

“Ned.” Cat shook his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, husband.” She was teasing, trying to lighten the mood, and Ned was grateful. Her shoulders were tense, though, and her grip was tight.

Cat was right – they had to talk this through.

“I suppose I should have seen this coming,” Ned murmured. “Jon has been restless, and angry with me, and he has every right to be.” He sighed. “I didn’t expect him to be bold enough to goad the men about it.”

Cat pressed her lips into a thin line. “Neither did I. But you’re right, perhaps we should have. That illuminated mark on his skin – alphas go through changes, of course, but the scope of his will be unlike anything we’ve ever seen.

Not entirely, Ned thought. Rhaegar, and Lyanna…he simply couldn’t think about that now. He sighed.

Cat squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about a way we might approach this scandal. I wasn’t sure if it was necessary, but after tonight, I’ve no doubt that it is. I need you to hear me out, please. You won’t like this, but please, for me, consider it.”

Ned nodded.

Cat paused, collecting herself. “The men are angry, about the secret you kept.”

“I _know_ that, Cat–“

She held up her hand. “You said you’d let me finish. It’s not the lie that angers them the most, not exactly. It’s the reasoning behind it. They can’t understand why you’d take such a risk, for Howland Reed.” She picked at her skirt. “One of them told me, before I reached you afterwards, that he couldn’t understand why you’d drag me through the mud all these years for the sake of a small northern house.”

Ned’s blood boiled. “Give me his name,” Ned growled, “and I’ll make sure he never speaks to you that way again.”

The corner of Cat’s mouth quirked. “I’m grateful, Ned, but please let me finish. Or are you not a man of your word?”

She held her head high, but her hands shook.

Ned was chastened. “I’m sorry, Cat. Please, I promise, I’ll hear you.”

“They need a different explanation for what you’ve done. And I think we can give it to them, without telling them the truth of the matter. There have been rumors, over the years, that Jon’s mother was Ashara Dayne.” Cat took a deep breath. “The best lies have some hint of the truth to them. For many years, I did believe it, that you and she…” Cat twisted her fingers together.

Ned couldn’t bear it. He crossed the room and held her. “I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely, “I’m so sorry, Cat. It’s only ever been you, my love. Only you.”

Cat melted against him. He inhaled her scent, and stroked her hair. If only this was all we had to worry over, he thought. I could take her to bed, show her how much I love her, over and over until morning.

When Cat looked up at him, her eyes were shining with tears. “Thank you, Ned. And I forgive you, for that interruption.”

Her voice was soft as she clung to him. In time, Ned thought, if the gods grant it, I might earn her forgiveness. I might be able to make up for some small portion of what I forced her to endure.

He kissed her forehead. “Thank you, my lady.”

Cat allowed herself one more embrace before she began again. “We – we build on those rumors, and alter them. We spread gossip that Jon’s mother was Ashara, and his father was Brandon Stark. Many people gave that rumor credence. You paid attention to it.” Cat started to pace again. “You went to those lengths because you were protecting your family, your own blood. It was Brandon’s child, not Lyanna’s. I learned the truth somehow, years ago, and I’ve been keeping it quiet. I’m already known to be jealous of Ashara.”

“I know,” she said, before he could stop her again. “I know you’re sorry, and you can make it up to me later. Brandon was known to have a wandering eye. Ashara was known for her beauty. You’re known for your loyalty. Jon is already considered a threat to Robb’s inheritance, just by being here. In a way the northern lords will understand, Jon as Brandon’s son is an echo of what was supposed to happen. Brandon Stark was supposed to father the next male heir for House Stark. And, if we tell the story this way, he did, and he died. You brought Dawn to Starfall, after the war. Ashara made you swear to protect Brandon’s son. You were consumed with grief, so you sacrificed yourself to do just that. Brandon wanted him raised in the Stark tradition, even if he couldn’t be anything but a bastard.” She came to stand beside him. “I know it’s a great deal to take in, Ned, but we have to move quickly.”

A maelstrom of emotions coursed through Ned. Cat had wanted to marry Brandon, long ago. She was right – Brandon had been the rightful heir to House Stark, before he died, and that ate at a small dark part of Ned’s soul he could not rid himself of. He could see the shape of the lie in his head, given how close it was to the truth. 

“The story will help with Robert too,” Cat mused. “He’s always wanted to know the truth about who Jon is. If we spread these rumors, and you write to Robert to encourage him to grant Howland’s petition to put them to rest, he may be more inclined to grant it. I think he’s likely to believe, as the northern lords will, that in truth Brandon fathered Jon. He’ll sign Howland’s petition to help you cover it up, but he’ll be satisfied that you finally told him the truth in a roundabout way. Men love to feel as if they can read between the lines and see what no one else can.”

Ned shoved his feelings down. He’d deal with them later. He had another request to make of her, and he wasn’t sure if she’d grant it.

“I’ll agree to this Cat, but on one condition. We have to tell Jon the truth, the _real_ truth. We need to tell Robb, and Sansa, and Darra, Jory, and Maester Luwin, as well. I lied to them once. I won’t lie twice.”

He’d expected Cat to argue, but she nodded heavily. “We do. These rumors must spread quickly. And while House Reed needing an heir is certainly a concern, it is not a pressing one. Jon needs to challenge Robb before he leaves tomorrow, and he needs to do it as Brandon’s son. We’ll work to spread the gossip tonight, and while Jon’s gone. I’ll make sure word gets to Lysa somehow. She’ll tell Jon Arryn, and he’ll certainly tell the king. If we time it right, Robert will know of your predicament before your scroll and Howland’s scroll arrive.”

Cat tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Jon's challenge will create a crisis. It would be less important to the north where Jon goes, as long as he leaves Winterfell quickly. Robert legitimizing him as Howland Reed’s heir, even if everyone knows it’s a ruse – it’s a good cover, Ned, for a greater scandal that can never see the light of day. It secures Robb’s place in the line of succession. Robert will understand that part of your goal is to remove Jon from the Stark line, and House Reed is a convenient place to do that.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “Robert won’t know it, but he himself will grant the petition that that protects Jon from Robert’s own wrath against Targaryens.” She paused. “We need a pack to weather this storm, Ned, and you’re right. They deserve to know.”

***

Ned was grateful that Cat stood by his side as he took in Robb, Jon, Darra, Sansa, and Jory in his solar. Sansa was seated at the table, and Darra and Jory stood by the fire. Robb and Jon were on opposite sides of the room, already staring each other down.

We must make an end of this, Ned thought. No more lies.

He steadied himself, and began with Jon.

“Jon. We will leave your outburst in the great hall for another time. We have a more pressing matter to discuss. You-“

He couldn’t do it, he simply couldn’t. Cat was his wife, and Lyanna would forgive him for it, but laying the truth bare to so many…

Cat took his hand and squeezed it, briefly, as she often did when he was faced with a terrible decision. He drew strength from that, and told the truth at last.

“I lied to you, before. You are not my son, but your father is not Howland Reed.” Ned’s hands shook. Speaking the truth to his wife of nearly twenty years was one thing, and it had almost killed him. Telling Jon, and the rest....

Cat brushed his shoulder, and he could see the reminder in her eyes. The pack survives.

“Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen,” Ned said, “and your mother was my sister, Lyanna Stark. I found your mother after the war, holding you in her arms.”

Ned dimly heard the gasps around the room. He was overcome with a wave of sadness. His mind started to slip back to the tower, and that terrible night. He startled when he heard Jon’s voice.

"Are you sure, my Lord?" Jon's voice was dripping with bitterness. "Is this the whole truth, or will your story change again tomorrow?"

A great and terrible anger rose in Ned's chest, twenty years in the making. Ned snapped.

“Listen to me, boy,” he hissed. “I lied for you, after your father tore the realm apart. I hurt my wife, damaged my reputation, held your mother as she bled to death in my arms. That is the _whole_ truth, and it could have started a war.”

Ned's gut twisted when he was finished. He opened his mouth to apologize, and was pulled up short. Every other time he’d used that voice with Jon, the boy had cowered. But this time, Jon hadn't shrunk into himself. He stared at Ned, full of quiet fury. Ned saw, for the first time, faint flecks of violet in Jon's eyes, and suddenly he was afraid. 

“Why?” Ned and Jon turned to look at Robb, who’d gone pale. “Why would you tell us now, father, after all this time?”

Darra and Jory exchanged glances, but remained silent.

“While your mother and I were away, Sansa’s mark appeared. The mark was golden, instead of red, and a match for Jon’s mark.” 

Robb paled. “What? Why wasn’t I told? What happens when two gold marks appear at the same time?”

“The pair goes into heat that same night,” Ned said. 

“Surely they didn’t–“ Robb glanced at Jon and Sansa. Sansa flushed, and looked away. Jon tensed.

“Maester Luwin discovered that they needed to be exposed to each other for the night,” Ned said. “They could have died if they weren’t, Robb. Jon was chained to the wall.” Jon’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. “Maester Luwin believed the chains would hold him back.”

“But the chains didn’t work,” Robb said slowly.

“No,” Ned said heavily, “they did not.”

“That's why you were in his room,” Robb murmured. He narrowed his eyes at Sansa. She shrank back. Jon surged forward, blocking Sansa from Robb's view. 

“Don't you dare,” he growled, “don't you dare blame her, or I'll deal with you myself.” 

Jon was poised and ready, brimming with fury. Ned remembered at the start, how he'd put himself between Cat and the rest of the world at the smallest perceived threat. And Ned's skin had been unmarked. Jon was young, and hot-blooded, a newly mated alpha. He bore a mark on his skin Ned had only seen once before, at the end of a long war. Jon would kill anyone who tried to take Sansa from him. Cat was right – they needed a pack to survive. 

Sansa sagged a little in relief when Jon blocked Robb from her view. Without taking his gaze from Robb, Jon reached back and took Sansa's hand. He laced her fingers with his. Sansa was trying very hard not to lean on Jon. Even Ned could tell how much she wanted to, how she longed to block out the whole world and be with him.

“I’m not blaming her,” Robb said to Jon, but he sounded less certain now. “I’m blaming you.”

Jon’s eyes darkened.

“Enough! That’s enough,” Ned said. He stepped in between Jon and Robb, ending the standoff. Robb turned away. Jon came next to Sansa, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Sansa turned into him, burying her face in his shirt.

“Jon,” Ned said, needing to establish some dominance of his own, “show Robb your mark.” It was a gamble, but a well-placed one. Jon pulled down his shirt defiantly. Robb’s eyes widened when he saw the color on Jon’s skin.

“What is that?”

“An illuminated mark,” Ned said. “They’re extraordinarily rare, and signify a mated pair with a unique bond.”

Robb opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Rhaegar and Lyanna had them too. Robb, I know you’re angry, but it’s done,” Ned said.

Robb took Jon in, looking at him like he was a new person. He nodded. “It’s done.”

Ned swept the room with his gaze. “You’ve all heard what happened in the great hall tonight. The scandal will only grow worse, when Sansa’s mark is announced.”

“You mean to marry them,” Robb said softly. “Once Jon is at House Reed, you’re going to announce that their marks match.” He frowned.

“Robb, we need your help,” Cat pleaded. “Sansa’s matching mark will cause another uproar. They’ll whisper about her, and we need you and Darra and Jory and Maester Luwin to help protect her. It will be ugly.”

Sansa bit back a small sob, and Jon drew closer. He tipped her chin up. “I won’t leave you, Sansa, not if they’ll hurt you.” He was breathing hard, still driven by instinct, on high alert at the suggestion of words that hadn’t even yet been spoken against Sansa.

“Jon, it would only be worse, if you stayed,” Ned said. Jon would know it, too, if his blood wasn’t running hot.

“He’s right,” Sansa said weakly. She tugged at Jon’s sleeve. “He’s right, Jon. Just please, go, and help us marry.”

Jon cupped her cheek, and Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut. “I will,” he said softly, “I’ll do it, Sansa, for you.” He wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight as she cried. The scene was so intimate that Ned almost had to look away.

“Come,” Ned said, “there’s more to this plan, and we don’t have much time.”

***

**Sansa**

Sansa sat on her couch the next day. She stitched at her wedding dress methodically, trying to forget about the shame of last night. The way Robb had looked at her still made her shudder. She’d opened the curtains to let in as much light as she could. The day was dull and cloudy, a perfect mirror for her mood. She’d had to light a candle to sew by.

She jumped when she heard a knock on her door, and pricked her finger. She sucked at the tip. “Who is it?”

“It’s Robb, Sansa. May I come in?”

He sounded bashful. And well he should, Sansa thought. She frowned, and considered telling him to leave. She pulled her warmest gown on instead, and cinched the waist. She opened the door, and let him inside. She marched back to the couch and sat down. She picked up her needle and thread as Robb stood in the middle of the room. If Robb wanted to apologize, he could start on his own.

Robb clasped his hands behind his back. “Sansa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel ashamed yesterday.” He swallowed. “Maester Luwin told me more than I ever needed to know about that night.”

Sansa’s breath hitched. “I’m not proud of what happened, Robb, if that’s what you’re after.”

“No, no, it’s only that…” Robb groaned. “This is so strange, Sansa, but I'm trying to understand, I promise, and I don't blame you.” Robb ran a hand through his auburn hair, so similar to Sansa's. “I was dumb as an aurochs, all right?”

Sansa finally gave Robb a small smile. Dumb as an aurochs was an old joke between them when they were little. Arya even still used it as an insult from time to time. “You were,” Sansa said softly. She took pity on him, and patted the seat next to her.

Robb sat, and the couch dipped under his wait. “Maester Luwin and father…they were right, Sansa. If I'd known, I would have kept you both apart. I wouldn't have believed the marks matched. I could have killed you Sansa, you and Jon." His voice has hoarse. "I have nightmares about it. I’m playing the Lord of Winterfell and making the wrong choice and you're both-“

Sansa put a hand on his shoulder. “Everything’s such a mess, isn't it?”

Robb leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Ever wish father had just left Jon with Howland Reed?” Robb muttered. 

“Yes, I do. But he didn't, and here we are. I just wish people wouldn't look at Jon the way they do, and when our marks are announced, they’ll–“

“They won't,” Robb said earnestly, “I'll do everything I can to stop them. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try, I promise.” He kissed the top of her head. “I just - you're my little sister, and I'm supposed to defend your honor.” 

Sansa squeezed his hand. “I know, Robb.” He always had when they were younger, playing at knights and princes. 

Robb smiled at her. “We’ll get you through this and get you to House Reed. I – I hope you and Jon will be happy, and I never, _ever_ have to hear about the details.”

Sansa finally laughed, for the first time in a long time.

***

Jon’s challenge to Robb had the desired effect. Sansa hadn’t been able to see him again after he left. It had only been a week, and she missed him terribly. She sighed as she sat down at her desk that morning. She was resolved to write to him. Sansa had always liked to keep her things nice and tidy, and her desk was no exception. A beautiful brown leather blotter covered most of the surface. She sat, and picked up her favorite quill pen, graced with a downy white feather. When she was little, and had worked out sums at this table, the plume had tickled her nose.

Sansa struggled with what to say to Jon. Darra had been right, she didn’t know Jon that well, even though they were fated to be together. She missed him desperately though. Her heart ached each time she thought of him, and how far away she was.

Sansa herself would go through physical changes, Dates told her, as would Jon. She'd long to have him close to her, keeping her safe. She could still feel his arm around her during that terrible meeting after the scandal in the great hall, how he'd stood between her and Robb, how ready he'd been to fight for her. But the further away he was, the less secure she became. Doubts began to creep into her mind. She took a deep breath and dipped her quill in the ink pot. 

_Dear Jon, I hope your travels brought you safely to House Reed. Please give all of our best to Lord Reed._ Sansa hesitated. She wasn’t sure what to write next. She glanced over at the wedding gown she’d started to make as soon as Jon departed. She and Darra had worked together on it.

_I’m making my wedding gown, and embroidering the edges with our mark. It’s silver thread, no one will recognize it but us._ She hesitated. _I can’t wait for you to see it at the feast._ She felt foolish, telling Jon about sewing, but Darra had encouraged her, so she pressed on. _Every time I stitch the pattern, I think of you. I miss you._

She signed and sealed it, before she could second-guess herself.

After Maester Luwin took the scroll from her, she fretted for a week. Her hands shook when she opened Jon’s first scroll to her. It arrived quickly. He must have sent the raven he first day he read my scroll, she thought, and smiled. She snapped the wax on the seal of the scroll that had come all the way from the Neck. 

_Dear Sansa,_

_We arrived safely. I’ve given everyone’s best to Lord Reed. I’m learning about House Reed, and how to run it_. Sansa smiled. He’d be lord of the castle someday, if Robert legitimized him. _I miss you so much, Sansa. I love to imagine you stitching by the fire, thinking for me. I can’t wait to see you, in your dress. You’ll be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen._

Sansa smiled as she read. He didn’t think it was foolish, after all. And he _missed _her. Thought of her at night. She ran her fingers over the parchment. She locked the scroll away in her dresser drawer, and picked up her quill again. 

***

Sansa wrote to Jon every week. She wove stories about Robb and his escapades in the training yard, and snowball fights between Arya and Bran and Rickon. She told Jon about practicing the high harp, and how she’d love to sing for him. Each and every time, she said she missed him.

Jon always wrote back. He told her about House Reed, and how green and lush the landscape was at the Neck. He told her stories about Howland Reed that made her laugh. He asked her what she might want for the wedding feast. Each and every time, he told her he missed her too.

Whenever Sansa thought about the anger and confusion amongst her father's subjects, her head ached. She had to believe – she _had_ to – that mother and father were right, and the gossip would die down. The alternative was that she and Jon wouldn't be able to wed. She'd go mad with grief if she let that idea take root. She'd spent many nights singing herself the song of Florian and Jonquil. The music soothed her mind and heart. Jon and I are a fated couple, she told herself. We'll be together. The king will legitimize Jon, and all will be well. 

***

Four months later, Sansa snapped the wax on Jon’s latest scroll, and gasped. He’d signed it Jon Reed, in large, proud letters. She ran to find her father in his study. She pulled herself up short at her father’s door, and tried to settle her nerves. She knocked, and entered. 

Her father was sitting at his desk, surrounded by books and ledgers. He looked worn down, and tired. He had his Lord’s face on, the one that he used to silence disputes in the great hall. Suddenly, Sansa was afraid to speak. 

Her father looked at and smiled at her. Some of the tension left his shoulders. He seemed like her father again, the man who’d told her stories on stormy nights, so she wouldn’t be afraid of the thunder and lightning. 

“Sansa. What is it?”

Sansa held up the scroll. “I...Jon’s scroll came today. And I thought you might want to know how he signed it.” She looked again at her father’s stack of papers, at the neat roll of scrolls. Perhaps Howland Reed had already written to her father. Perhaps he already knew.

“Sansa.” Her father’s voice brought her back to the present. “May I see it?”

“Yes, of course, father.” She gave it to him. 

Her father made a peculiar sound when he read the scroll. “Jon Reed,” he mused. He sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

Sansa clasped her hands in front of her. “We’ll – we’ll be able to marry now, father?” Please, she thought, please say yes.

Her father shook his head as if to clear it. He smiled at her. “You will, Sansa.”

Sansa couldn’t contain herself – she threw herself into his arms. Thank the gods, she thought.

Her father kissed the top of her head. “I’m happy for you both.” He gave her one last hug and released her. Sansa gazed at Jon’s scroll, rolled out on the desk. Perhaps her father wanted to keep it, since it bore the name Jon Reed.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “May I have the scroll back, or would you like to keep it?”

“No, Sansa, keep it. I’m glad you two are able to write to each other.” Her father nodded to the scrolls next to him. I’m sure one of these will give me the news, from Howland or from the king.”

Sansa smiled and took her leave. This scroll from Jon had been witty, and lighthearted, full of stories of the training yard. Sansa flushed. She’d come to father so quickly, she hadn’t thought of what it might be like for her father to read other scrolls. Ones where Jon said he wanted to kiss her, or ride back to Winterfell to get her.

Claim me, she thought, that’s what he’d written. He wanted to ride back to Winterfell and take me home, where I belonged. She felt a pleasant shiver go through her as she tucked the scroll into her pocket. She looked forward to the day she could sign her own scrolls with Sansa Reed. 

***

As the months rolled by, it was harder and harder to be separated from Jon. Tension coiled in Sansa’s belly, and she had to fight to keep from snapping at others. Jon’s scrolls were filled with how desperately he missed her, and how much he wanted her. She’d told him little of the scandal that had stormed through Winterfell when her mark was announced, heeding Darra’s advice.

He’ll come back for you for certain, Darra had said, not unkindly, and both of your sacrifices will have been for nothing. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, downplaying the hurtful words that had been spoken about her. Jon had still offered to come – almost insisted – but she begged him not to, even though every part of her longed to be near him. He agreed, for her sake, but even Sansa could tell his patience was running thin.

Two weeks before they rode for House Reed, Sansa finished her wedding dress. She wrote to Jon about it. _I can’t wait to wear it for you_, she wrote. _I can’t wait for you to take it off me_. She held her breath. That was too unladylike. She sighed and crumpled up the scroll. She started over, telling him only that she’d finished the dress, and she longed to dance with him. 

When Jon’s reply came, Sansa waited to open it until she was alone in her room that night. Thunderclouds had been brewing all day, and rain pattered against her window. Darra had left a mug of hot chocolate for her, to soothe her nerves, and she was grateful for it as she sipped. She lit a candle, and brought the scroll over to her bed. She threw back the covers and tucked herself in. She ran her thumb over the green seal of the scroll. Gods, she missed him. Finally, she snapped the wax.

_Dear Sansa,_

_I’m going to love that dress, and I’m going to love tearing it off you. _

Sansa shivered. Darra had told her Jon might be especially possessive when he saw her next. They’d created a lace up back for the dress, covered up by an embroidered panel. The dress would look modest, but Jon would be able to take it off. Darra had told her Jon wouldn’t let anyone else near her that night, and there certainly wouldn’t be a bedding. Jon would want her all to himself as soon as possible.

Sansa bit her lip. She wanted that too, wanted it so very badly. She wanted him to hold her, to keep her close, to have his scent surrounding her. She wanted…

She felt a trickle of wetness down her thigh. She remembered that night she and Jon had spent together, and how he’d ordered her to touch herself for him. She hadn’t been brave enough to try it again – ladies simply didn’t do that kind of thing – but she was alone for the night, No one needed to know what she imagined in the privacy of her own chambers. 

Sansa kept reading, and gasped. 

_I saddled up my horse today. Howland had to stop me from riding for you. I only let him because you’ll be here soon. _

It was true. They would ride for House Reed in a few days. 

_I can hardly stand it. I want to come to your chambers, break the door down, and take you, over and over. When you read this, sweet girl, lie down on your bed for me. _

Sansa slipped deeper into the sheets. The tension in her belly was almost unbearable. Yes, Jon, she thought, I’m here, I’m waiting for you. 

She hiked up her shift and slid her hand up her thigh. She stayed there, trembling. She kept reading. 

_Do you remember how you touched yourself for me, that night? I think about it every day, Sansa, every hour. _

Sansa whined. She did, too.

_I want you to touch yourself for me, Sansa. Imagine I’m there, I’m watching you._

Sansa slid her hand higher, and a moan escaped her. She was so wet, and she thought about Jon’s dark eyes on her as she started to stroke herself. He wants me to, she thought. She gave in, circling her nub, gathering the wetness between her fingers as she got closer. 

Sansa held onto the scroll tightly with one hand. 

_I can almost see you in your bed, beautiful girl. You’re ready for me, aren’t you?_

Sansa nodded frantically, as if Jon could actually see her. Gods, she _was_, so ready…Her eyes fluttered shut. “Jon, I need you,” she whispered. She circled her hips, heat flooding through her. If only he was here, on top of her, everywhere…

She tried to focus on the scroll.

_Imagine I’m taking you, hard and fast. I’m going to mark you, Sansa, bite down on your neck when I spill inside you._

Sansa arched up off the bed. She was panting as she slipped a finger inside herself. Gods, she could feel his teeth on her neck, feel him holding her down. “Jon, please…” She whimpered when she read the last line. 

_Come for me, love, come for me, like you will on our wedding night, do it now. _

Sansa dropped the scroll and cupped her breast, her other hand working between her legs. She flicked her nipple with her thumb. Jon’s here, he’s inside me, making me his, telling me to– 

She cried out as she peaked, clenching around her fingers, almost sobbing with relief as she came. She was falling from a great height, and it took her several minutes to come down. She’d soaked the sheets, but she felt better than she had in months. Tension drained out of her, and she fell into a deep sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa travels to Greywater Watch. She and Jon struggle with the intensity of their desire for each other during the wedding ceremony. Finally, after a year apart, they're able to enjoy their wedding night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right kids, we've arrived at the wedding night! Jon and Sansa are reunited and things get hot and heavy. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far! I'm turning off moderated comments, because if you're still around I'm guessing you've bought into the premise ;) This is much more possessive smut than I usually write, just a heads up on that. Sansa's definitely into it. Enjoy!!

In the morning, Sansa’s cheeks flushed when she picked the scroll off the floor. She placed it carefully in the drawer with the others. She’d pack them last, carrying them with her inside her cloak. 

Love. He’d called her his love, in his last scroll. Sansa had thought of the bond between her and Jon as a great song, like Florian and Jonquil. Now, though, as the stack of scrolls grew, she felt closer to Jon than she ever had.

_ I know our song now _ she thought, _ the melody of it, the chorus, where we harmonize, how it will fill the air when we’re together_. She hadn’t known Jon Snow, but she knew Jon Reed, her future husband, and she couldn’t wait to get back to him. She loved him too.

***

The next two days were full of goodbyes and preparations. Sansa's departure from Winterfell was both painful and a relief. Scandal nipped at her heels. Arya, Bran and Rickon were utterly bewildered by the entire affair. Sansa was grateful for Robb's help. They'd decided that her other siblings would be told the truth when they were older. 

Bran would be Lord of Winterfell while they were gone. He was listening closely to Maester Luwin as the carriage pulled away. Bran’s brow was furrowed in concentration as the master bent his head to speak with him. Both were heedless of the snowflakes swirling around them. Sansa smiled. Robb had hugged Bran before he left, and told him how proud he was of him. Bran had beamed, and promised to do his best.

Tears sprang to Sansa’s eyes as she looked at Winterfell one last time. The woods where they’d played at knights and castles, monsters and maidens. The training yard where Robb and Jon had sparred, and Bran had begged for his own sword. Arya had shot arrow after arrow into the straw target just outside the training yard, early in the morning when she thought no one could see her. Sansa had seen her father, more than once, standing on the balcony in the mist, watching Arya with pride.

The tall stone walls had kept Sansa safe and protected as a girl. She’d learned to sing, and play the harp here, and she’d done it all within the embrace of a loving family. Her mother and father had promised Sansa she and Jon could return to Winterfell to visit, once the scandal died down. Sansa said one last goodbye as she stepped into the carriage. She wiped her eyes as discreetly as she could.

She settled in next to her mother, and Darra sat across from them. Her mother took one look at her tear-stained face, and embraced her.

“You’ll be back soon, I promise, Sansa. Let the lords settle down, and you and Jon can come visit as often as you like.”

Sansa gave her a wan smile. She knew her mother was trying to comfort her. Gossip about her mark, and Jon’s challenge, was still swirling around Winterfell and the countryside. Sansa wasn’t a green girl anymore – she knew she wouldn’t be able to return for at least a year, if not longer.

Darra, Sansa, and Sansa’s mother would travel in one carriage. Her lord father and Robb would ride in another. Her father and Robb spoke briefly before stepping into the second carriage. Robb insisted on coming, to help Sansa and Jon navigate the minefield of the wedding ceremony. Her father hadn’t even tried to hide his relief. Robb had thrown himself into the task of calming and reassuring the lords here at Winterfell, and he’d do the same during the celebration at Greywater Watch.

***

As the days went by, Sansa grew used to the way the carriage bumped and clattered on the road.

Sansa’s heart beat faster as she watched the landscape change outside her window. After all these months, she was on her way to Jon at last. Just as Jon had said, the whites and greys of Winterfell and Wintertown fell away. Leafy trees dappled the carriage with light and shade. Green and brown hills rose and fell. It would be beautiful country for riding, Jon had told her, and Sansa agreed. 

After three weeks, they approached Greywater Watch. Sansa craned her neck out of the window to catch sight of it. The castle was smaller than Winterfell, as she’d expected, but the lights in the windows were warm, and inviting. Darra helped her out of the carriage, and Sansa’s shoes sank into the lush moss. She traded out her heavy wool cloak for a lighter shawl. It would take time to get used to the warmer, humid air. 

Howland Reed welcomed them into the great hall. The Neck had more trees than stone quarries, and so the floor of the hall was made of deep brown wood, polished and shining. Wooden beams graced the ceiling. The walls were hung with green and grey tapestries, House Reed’s colors. Sansa felt as if she’d stepped into an enchanted piece of the forest that had come to life. 

Her father and Howland Reed embraced. They shared a few words, and her father introduced Lord Reed to Robb. Her father was not a tall man, but he towered over Lord Reed. Lord Reed had a lean, wiry build, and his curly brown hair was streaked with grey. He walked with a slight stoop. He greeted Sansa warmly, kissing her hand. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Sansa liked him on the spot. 

“Lady Sansa. It’s a pleasure. Jon has told us so much about you.”

Sansa curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Reed. My father has told me many wonderful stories of your bravery.”

A cloud passed over Howland Reed’s face, and Sansa regretted her words. She knew now what Howland Reed had witnessed at the Tower of Joy, and worried she’d mis-spoken. Lord Reed was sacrificing his reputation by housing Jon amidst the scandal, and endorsing Jon and Sansa’s marriage.

Soon Howland was smiling again, as if nothing at all had happened. “Your father is too kind. He’s the finest warrior I know. Come, I’m sure you are weary after your journey. We’ve had a room made ready for you, and…”

Howland trailed off, looking expectantly at Darra. Sansa flushed. Where had her manners gone?

“Apologies, my lord, this is my lady’s maid, Darra Cassel.”

Darra curtsied deeply. “An honor to meet you, my lord.”

Howland brightened. “Darra Cassel, of course. We’ll call for Jory immediately. He's missed you a great deal.” He leaned in, as if telling a joke. “The number of scrolls you two sent back and forth – my maester told me he thought you two were recently wed.”

Sansa froze. But Howland’s expression was merely amused. 

Darra recovered quickly. “Thank you, my lord. I hope your maester wasn’t put to too much trouble.”

Howland waived her away. “Not at all. I was surprised he noticed, in truth. Maester Holdwin is a good man. I told him to make sure each and every one was sent to you straight away.”

Darra smiled. “We are grateful for your kindness.”

Howland called for a servant, and asked that Sansa be shown to her room. Jon was away, settling a dispute between two lords. Howland assured her Jon would return the next day. “He’ll want to have the wedding right away, so we’ll prepare the feast for tomorrow.”

Sansa blinked. “My lord, have all your guests arrived?”

Howland gave her a wry smile. “Not all, but they’ll simply have to do without. Jon was quite clear that the ceremony was to take place as soon as you were here.”

Sansa was puzzled - and disappointed - that Jon wasn’t there to greet her. Later, she’d understand Howland’s reasoning perfectly. Jon wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself if he’d seen her before the wedding. She curtsied, and took her leave. She and Darra settled into their rooms, inside a turret on the castle’s east side. Darra laid out Sansa’s wedding dress, and called for a bath to be drawn for her. 

Sansa hid her smile as Darra flitted around the room. “Darra, you needn’t stay. Please, go find Jory.”

Darra huffed. “We need to get you ready for your wedding, my lady.”

Sansa laughed. “I can bathe myself, Darra. You’ll help me do my hair tomorrow, and lace me into my dress.” She took Darra’s hand. “Please, go to him. It’s the least Jon and I can do.”

Darra ducked her head. “Very well. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning. I’ll have food sent up for you.”

“Thank you, Darra.” 

Sansa bathed, and slipped into bed. She wished she could will time to move faster. She longed to see Jon, after a long and restless year. 

***

The next day dawned and there was still no sign of Jon. Howland assured Sansa he’d return that afternoon. Preparations for the wedding feast were in full swing. Sansa smiled when she saw the harpists and singers Jon had ordered. 

When Jon finally entered the hall, Sansa lit up. He was wearing House Reed’s colors, green and grey. He’d grown taller, in their year apart, and his hair was longer and bound back from his face. His shoulders seemed broader, and Sansa started to run to him. She needed to throw herself into his arms and nestle her cheek to his. She ached to tell him how she’d _ missed _ him, so much, it had been agony to—

Her mother caught her arm. 

“Mother, please, it’s been a year–”

“A year since Jon left Winterfell, yes, and six months since you’ve learned of your matching marks.” Lady Stark’s voice carried, and a few people turned to listen. “I’m glad for you, my dear, that we’ve come here to celebrate your marriage, now that you bear a golden mark. But why don’t we let Jon greet your father? You two can see each other at the ceremony.”

Sansa took a deep breath. She’d almost forgotten their story, now that Jon was so close. She glanced over, and her father was holding Jon back as well. Jon was straining to reach her. Robb and her father had a firm grip on him.

Sansa’s mother cleared her throat, and looked at her pointedly.

_ A part, _ Sansa thought, _ we must play a part, for a little while longer. _ She collected herself.

“Yes, of course mother. Shall I introduce you to the singers we’ll hear tonight?”

Her mother gave her a smile Sansa had seen before, when Sansa had mastered a lesson or made a fine gown. _ She’s proud of me for remembering_, Sansa thought. She smiled back, and led over to the singers. 

The rest of the afternoon was much the same. Jon and Sansa were obligated to keep their distance. During the wedding ceremony before the heart tree, they were so closely watched that she and Jon could only recite their vows as any other couple would. 

_ We are not mated, as far as they know_, Sansa told herself over and over. _ We are two people who will lay together for the first time tonight. _

Sansa suspected she was handling the pressure better than Jon was. He looked at her like he was burning up inside, and she saw her lord father and Robb restrain him more than once. When Jon stepped forward to snap the wedding cloak around her shoulders, Sansa couldn’t help shivering. She caught his scent and her knees almost buckled. When he kissed her cheek, he lingered a few seconds longer than was proper. That one light touch made Sansa’s blood sing. She started to turn her head to let him kiss her properly. She needed him to capture her mouth, grab the back of her head–

Howland Reed cleared his throat. “Everyone, please join us in the great hall for food and drink and merriment. Let us celebrate the union of Jon and Sansa Reed!” Howland clapped Jon firmly on the back as a few scattered cheers rose from the crowd. Sansa’s mother took her by the arm and led her inside. Sansa’s cheeks were flushed. She expected her mother to be angry with her. 

To her surprise, her mother led her away from the crowd, and when she spoke her voice was gentle. “I know this is hard, Sansa, for both of you. You need to play this game just a little longer, my child. Can you do that?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, mother.”

“Good. We’ve a feast to get to, and then you can dance with Jon. Say hello properly.”

Sansa couldn't help smiling. She thought back to all the scrolls she’d sent Jon about dancing. “I am looking forward to that.”

Her mother took her arm. “Then let’s go in, shall we?”

***

The hall was full of music and laughter when Sansa and her mother entered. Sansa caught Jon’s eye immediately, at the head table. She looked to her mother, and she nodded. 

Sansa did her best to remember her courtesies, greeting and speaking with every lord and lady she encountered before she made her way to Jon. Her heart sank when she saw that her mother would be seated on her right, and Howland Reed would be seated at Jon’s left. 

_ A year, and we still can't speak freely_, Sansa thought. 

Jon jumped up from his chair. She saw anger and heat in his eyes. She shrank back. _Did I do something wrong? _

Jon seemed to realize her discomfort immediately. He smiled at her, and pulled out her chair. “Please, join me, my wife, I’ve missed you.”

Howland Reed frowned at _ I’ve missed you _, but Sansa couldn’t bring herself to care. She settled into the seat next to Jon. He immediately pressed his leg against hers, underneath the long green cloth that covered the banquet table, and Sansa relaxed. She caught his scent, and the weight of him next to her was reassuring. 

For the next twenty minutes, Jon and Sansa had two entirely different conversations. On the surface, they chatted about Sansa’s journey, and Jon’s time at Greywater Watch. They stuck carefully to light and harmless topics – Sansa’s journey, the deliciousness of the food, the loveliness of the music. 

Underneath, Jon squeezed her thigh briefly, and she bit back a moan when he did. Jon brushed his fingers over the embroidery on the sleeve of her dress, and she gave him a secret smile. Their matching marks were on display, in silver thread, and no one knew it. 

“This is beautiful,” Jon said. 

“Thank you, Jon. I love embroidering, and I wanted to make something very special for you today.” 

“You have,” Jon whispered. Sansa flushed, and took another sip of wine. Jon was looking at her like she was cool water and he was dying of thirst. He took her hand in his, and she shivered. 

“My lady, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” He laced their fingers together. 

Sansa lowered her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed. All she wanted was to be in his arms. She gave her apologies to her mother and Howland Reed, and let Jon lead her to the dance floor. 

Jon put his arm around her waist. He kept her close, and refused to speak to anyone before they joined the dancers. Sansa was surprised when he led her into the middle of the floor with ease, not missing a step. 

“You’ve improved so much, Jon.”

Jon smiled at her, and took her to a less crowded corner of the dance floor. The other couples gave them a wide berth. It was common to give the bride and groom some privacy on their wedding night. He pulled her close to him, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her. The music faded into the background, and it was finally, _ finally _just the two of them. 

Jon leaned in, and his breath ghosted over her ear. “I learned how, so no other man would touch you. You’re mine, sweet girl.”

_ I am_, she thought, _ yes, only his_. Sansa tilted her face up to his. Jon controlled her movements, and all she had to do was sway with him. She twined her arms around his neck. “I’m yours, Jon. I missed you so much.”

“Gods, I missed you too.” He nudged her cheek with his nose. “Did you get my last scroll?”

Sansa felt tension coil in her belly, and that familiar trickle down her thigh. “I did, Jon,” she said breathlessly. 

He stroked her hair. “And did you do what I told you to do?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I did everything you told me to do.”

Jon’s breath hitched. “Did you touch yourself for me?”

Sansa’s cheeks were burning, but Jon had a tight hold on her, and he wouldn’t let anyone near them. She was safe. “Yes, I did.” 

Jon swept his thumb over the fabric covering the mark on her waist. _ He remembered, _ she thought, _ he remembered exactly where it was. _

“Good girl.” Sansa whined at that, happy that she’d pleased him. “Did you think about me, imagine I was there?”

Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut. “Yes, I did, Jon, I cried out for you, when I….”

Jon growled softly. “When you what, love?”

Sansa shuddered. Ladies didn’t say such things, especially not on a dance floor, but her alpha had asked her a question, and it was only right to answer him. “When…” She remembered the hot pulse that had gone through her, how her peak had seemed endless. “When I came for you, Jon.”

Jon sucked in a breath, and tightened his grip on her. “_Fuck_, so good for me, Sansa.” He ran his hand over the back of her dress. “I’m tearing this off you tonight.” 

Sansa hid her smile. ‘It laces up the back, behind the panel.”

Jon kissed her cheek, like he’d done in the godswood, except this time he lingered, and she turned her face to his. When his lips met hers he groaned loudly enough that some of the dancers stared at them. Sansa didn’t care, not when Jon was slipping his tongue into her mouth, not when she could taste him after so many months. Jon cupped the back of her head, and she melted into him. 

“...Strange, that much passion, and they used to think of themselves as brother and sister.” 

Jon tore himself away from her to glare at the lord who’d made the remark. Sansa had never seen him so furious. _ He hates this_, she thought, recalling the look he’d given her when he pulled out her chair. _ He’s angry at them_. Sansa felt the muscles in Jon’s shoulders tense. _ He really means to fight him_, she thought. A thrill went through her at the idea, but she had to stop him. She put her hand on his cheek. 

“Jon, perhaps we could retire?”

Jon turned back to her, and the anger in his eyes shaded into desire. “Yes, we’re leaving, right now.”

Sansa startled. She’d expected to say goodbye to her family.

“My mother and father–“

“They’ll say our goodbyes for us.” Jon put his hand on the back of her neck, pressing down, holding her in place. Sansa rubbed her legs together. _ Gods _, she needed him.

“Yes,” she said, “let’s leave.” 

***

The second they stepped inside their chambers, Jon pushed her up against the door and kissed her fiercely. Sansa whined and opened for him when he bit at her bottom lip. He cupped the back of her head and pinned her. She was completely surrounded by him. Heat rolled off him in waves, and she clung to his broad shoulders as he crowded her against the door.

Sansa slid a hand into his hair, tugging gently at the tie that held in place. Jon reached up and tore the tie away. Sansa carded her hand through his hair and kissed him back, desperate for him, every part of him.

He broke away, and spun her around, tearing at the back of her dress. Sansa felt the cool surface of the door against her cheek. She bit back a moan when she heard Jon draw his dagger. He sliced through the laces of her dress, and the satin fabric pooled at her feet. Jon tossed the dagger into a corner and pressed himself against her. She was trapped, with no way to move. She whined when he pulled her hair back to expose her neck. She could feel how hard he was through his breeches, and his scent was all around her. 

“Fuck, Sansa, fuck, a _ year_, a year they kept you from me–“ He grabbed her chin from behind and kissed her again, and she opened to his assault gladly. Sansa was wild with desire, and wanted Jon inside her. He sucked blooms down her neck. “You’re never leaving again, Sansa.”

She tipped her head back. She’d lived without him for so long, and now she was exactly where she needed to be. “Never, Jon.”

He growled and held her still. “You’re mine, sweet girl, I’ll kill anyone who comes after you.”

Her breath came in short pants. “Yes, yours–”

She gasped as he tore away her small clothes. “Stay still for me, Sansa. Later, love, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” She heard him fumble with the laces of his breeches and her heart sang. “But first, I’m taking what’s mine.”

She gave him a tiny jerky nod, then moaned as he thrust into her, rough, just the way she needed it. She couldn’t turn her head to look at him, since he’d pressed her against the door. She shivered when his breath ghosted over her ear. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me love–“

“I am Jon, I’ve been like this since I saw you.”

He was stretching her, filling her in all the best ways, hard and fast, claiming her. “I should have done this the second I laid eyes on you, the seven hells take everyone else–”

All she could do was hold on while he took her, thrust after thrust, hard enough to shake the door. _ Yes_, she thought, _ yes, please_, as he set his teeth on her neck. That sweet tension coiled in her belly again. A year, a whole _ year _without the feel of him inside her, and now it was almost too much. She wanted to rock back into him, but he’d told her to stay still...

He started to stutter as he bit down on her shoulder. She muffled a scream as he slammed into her, spilling inside her. That hot rush inside her almost tipped her over the edge.

Jon was breathing harshly, still holding her in place. He nosed at her neck. “Gods, your _ scent_, sweet girl, when I take you. You need it as much as I do.

Sansa whined. She wished she could look at him. “I do, Jon, I do.”

He pulled out of her slowly and she whimpered at the loss of contact. He turned her around, surprisingly gently, and kissed her again, taking his time, working her up. 

Sansa caught her breath as he bit down on her earlobe. “Can I move, Jon?” 

He smiled. “Yes, sweet girl, you can. Hold onto me, now.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, as if she weighed nothing at all. Sansa knew the stories he’d told her about the training yard were true. He laid her down on the covers and pulled his shirt over his head. He was still wearing his breeches – he’d barely unlaced them in his haste to take her. The thought thrilled her. He came to lay down next to her and covered her body with his. She sighed happily. 

He nipped at her neck. “You like that, love, when I’m on top of you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, as he slid his hand up her leg, “I love it.” Something nagged at the back of her mind. She needed to say it before he touched her again and made her lose herself completely. She tugged gently at his hair, and he pulled back enough to look at her. “I love you, too, Jon. I love you so much.” 

He flushed, and kissed her slowly. He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m glad to hear you say it, Sansa, I didn’t – I didn’t want to push you, but I couldn’t hold back, the way I feel about you.”

She touched his cheek, “I don’t want you to, Jon. I just ...I thought it, when I got your last scroll. I haven’t been able to think straight, since I saw you, but – oh, Jon, _ yes_.”

He’d started to stroke between her legs. “I’ve neglected you, my love, let me make it up to you.” She held onto his shoulders as he touched her. She whined when he slipped a finger inside her, and ground down onto his hand. 

“Jon, that’s…”

He kissed her temple. “There you are, Sansa, there you are, gods I missed you like this.” She fluttered around him. “You’re so close, sweet girl, come for me, let me feel you.”

She let herself fall over the edge. She bit her fist to keep from crying out, but he grabbed her hand. “No, love, let them hear you.” 

She let out a soft cry, still holding back. They were in a new castle, not the privacy of her own chambers back at Winterfell, and some part of her hesitated. 

Jon worked her through it, whispering in her ear how lovely she was, how beautiful. Soon she sunk back on the bed, sated. She could feel the hard length of him against her thigh, and she expected him to roll on top of her. He started to kiss his way down her body instead. Something inside her panicked as she lost the reassuring weight of him on top of her. “Jon, wait, please–”

He was back up with her in an instant. “What is it, sweet girl?” His hair was wild, but his eyes were soft. She put a hand on his chest, and swallowed. She needed…

She slid off the bed, and reached for his breeches. His laces were half undone, and she started to untie the knots. 

“Please, Jon, can I?”

Jon stood, planting his feet on either side of her, boxing her in. She trembled. 

“Is this what you want, Sansa?” He touched her cheek, the same way he had when she’d snuck into her room a lifetime ago. 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Aye,” Jon said. His voice was deeper, and sent shivers down her spine. “Then kneel for me, wife.”

Jon helped her tug off his breeches. He was half-hard already, and his cock twitched when she knelt on the soft rug in front of him. She hesitated – this was new to her, and though she longed for it, she didn’t know where to begin. Jon carded his hand through her hair, and she relaxed. “You’re so beautiful like this.” He rested his hand on her cheek. She leaned in, and kissed the tip of his cock. He twitched, and she looked up at him. 

“Is that – is that not right?”

“No, love, it’s very, very good.” His eyes were hooded, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Could you...could you help me Jon? Tell me what to do for you? I want to, so badly, I just don’t know how.”

“Of course, Sansa.” The tender way he said almost it brought tears to her eyes. “Of course.” He wrapped his hand around his cock. “Open your mouth for me.” Now that Jon was talking her through it, it was the simplest thing in the world to part her lips for him and take the head of his cock in her mouth. She kissed it, and swirled her tongue across the tip. The taste of him was sharp and surprising. It sent a wave of desire through her. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, so hot and tight. Take me in, love, slowly, there’s no rush.” She licked and sucked for him. His breath quickened when she surged forward. She was learning, exploring, figuring out what he liked. When she pushed at his hand, he let it drop away. He carded his hand through her hair again. She bobbed her head up and down, and he tightened his grip on her hair briefly. The tug on her scalp was a delicious sensation.

She let him go with a pop and looked up at him. “Please, Jon, pull my hair again?” 

His eyes darkened. “You like that, my pretty wife?” She nodded. She couldn’t explain it quite yet, how it grounded her, made her feel safe. Jon threaded his hand through her hair again and tugged. She moaned and took him back in her mouth, rubbing her legs together when he tugged harder. Jon thrust into her mouth and then stopped himself with a curse. 

Sansa shook her head, looking up at him. She put her hands on his thighs. She didn’t want to let him go again, and prayed he’d understand that she wanted him to be rough. Jon started to move, thrusting into her mouth, and she whined and sucked harder.

“Fuck, Sansa, I thought about this so many times, having you kneel for me..."

_ Yes_, she thought, _ gods, please let me stay here_. It felt so good, so right, to kneel for him, to take him in as far as she could. Her eyes rolled back in her head when he tugged sharply on her hair, and she whined.

“No.” Jon’s voice was gruff, and dark. “Keep your eyes open, love, look at me while you suck.”

She snapped her gaze to his. He groaned. “That's it, so good, you’re so good for me, _ fuck_, Sansa.” He sped up, thrusting deeper, and she took as much of him as she could, reveling in how he controlled her movements with a tug of his hand. “Sansa, I’m going, I’m going to-”

She nodded. _ Please Jon, let me take it _. 

Jon held her in place when he spilled in her mouth. Sansa moaned when his seed hit the back of her throat, and swallowed as much of it as she could. Jon pulled her up to him when she was finished, and kissed her, hot and dirty and desperate. He dragged her back down onto the bed. “Tell me,” he panted, “tell me how it felt.”

Sansa arched as he sucked on her neck. “So good, Jon, it feels like I was made for it, to kneel for you, to serve you like that–”

Jon cut her off with a kiss. “Gods, do you know what you do to me?”

Sansa smiled shyly. “I think I have some idea, husband.”

A subtle change came over Jon at the word _ husband_. He covered her body with his own, just the way she wanted. “And you like that, wife? Serving your husband? Pleasing him?”

“Yes, Jon, more than anything. You put me in my place and I love it, it feels safe, and secure, like no one can hurt me.”

“No one ever will, love,” he murmured. He kissed her for a few blissful minutes, then took her hands in his, and pressed them to the headboard. “Keep them there for me, can you do that, Sansa?”

“Yes, Jon, I promise.” 

“Good girl.” He kissed down her body again, sucking blooms at her throat, under her breasts, taking her nipple in his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. Sansa squirmed underneath him. She’d waited so long, to be marked as his, and now it was as if Jon couldn’t stop. He kissed his way down to her stomach, and she tensed. She was too exposed. He climbed back up her body and covered her again. She relaxed. He put his hands over hers on the headboard, and looked down at her. There was so much sweetness in his gaze. 

“I – I need you close, Jon, need your weight on me.”

Jon kissed her. “I’m right here, love, I’m right here, I’m not leaving. I’m going to take care of you, I promise. I want to taste you, though, sweet girl, and I want to hear you cry out for me.” 

Sansa glanced over at the door. It was bolted, she knew, but…

Jon nuzzled her behind her ear. “You’re mine to protect, Sansa, my omega, I’ll kill anyone who comes through that door. You’re safe with me, love, I swear it. Do you trust me?”

Sansa took a few deep breaths. Jon wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, when she was exposed like this. “I do trust you, Jon. I’ll try for you, I promise.” She didn’t want to disappoint him.

Jon smiled, and rested his forehead on hers. “We can stop, if you need to, I just want you every way I can have you tonight.” He gave her hands one last press, then gathered up some of the furs from the bed. He covered her up from her neck to her hips. “This way I can still look at you, love, and hear you, but you’ll have some weight on you. Better?” He tucked her hair behind her ear. 

Sansa shifted under the furs. She felt grounded, and secure. When she looked at Jon, she saw the love shining in his eyes. She felt the tension drain out of her. _ Jon would never let anything happen to me. _She smiled at him. “Yes, Jon, it’s lovely.”

Jon kissed her cheek. “Good girl.” He kissed his way over the furs, making a show of it, and she giggled. Her breath hitched when she felt his hands on her thighs. 

“Spread your legs for me, Sansa.”

She let her legs fall open for him, sighing happily.

Jon hummed. “You've been wanting to do that for me, haven’t you?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I have.” 

Jon kissed and bit his way up the inside of her thigh. By the time he reached her center, she was aching for him. His breath ghosted over her. “I've wanted to taste you for so fucking long, Sansa.”

She whimpered at the first lick of his tongue, holding back. Moaning for Jon when he was inside her felt right, but this was something else entirely. Jon dug his fingertips into her hips, hard enough to leave bruises. His eyes were almost black when he looked at her over the furs. Somehow, he knew she needed permission for this. “Don't you dare hold back, wife. Let everyone hear you." Sansa cried out softly as Jon worked her over, kissing and licking the most sensitive part of her. She desperately wanted to bite her fist, or grab at the furs. But Jon had told her to keep her hands where they were. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, sweeter than I ever imagined, and all mine-”

“Jon-” That slow build of tension had started again in her belly.

Jon growled at the sound of his name, and the noise sent ripples of sensation through her. “More, Sansa.” He circled her nub with his tongue, and it felt a thousand times better than his fingers, _ gods- _

“I'm yours, I'm yours,” she whined. She tried to match his movements, to chase her release, but he pulled away, grinning.

She twisted off the bed, seeking friction, wanting his tongue on her again. He held her down firmly. “I'll give you what you need, love, I promise.” He leaned in and licked at her so very lightly. “But you need to ask me for it, and that's an order.” Jon was teasing the inside of her thighs with the tips of his fingers, stroking her rhythmically. 

Sansa dropped her head back on the pillow. She started to float. Her alpha had given her an order. Who could blame her if she followed it? “M-more, please, Jon.”

“More what, sweet girl?” Jon sounded as if he had all the time in the world. Sansa bit her lip in frustration. 

“Please, I need it, I’m yours-”

Jon’s mouth was on her, teasing her, not giving her what she ached for.

“I - I belong to you, Jon, oh _ fuck- _ ” Jon slipped a finger inside her at _ I belong to you. _ He groaned when she cursed, and picked up the pace. Heat flooded through her. She’d never cursed in her life, not once, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her shame washed away as she started to buck into his mouth. “My cunt’s yours Jon _ please _, take me-”

Jon slipped another finger inside her and curled them, touching a spot she’d never felt before. She shattered apart for him, screaming his name. Jon tore the furs off of her, climbing up her body, covering her hands on the headboard. She could have wept at the relief of having his weight on her again. He captured her mouth, and she could taste herself on his tongue.

“You're so good for me, Sansa, you did so well, to cry out for me.” He thrust into her, slowly. Sansa saw beads of sweat at his hairline. She gasped as the pressure inside her built up the familiar tension in her. _ Again_, she thought hazily, _ how can it be happening again? _“Look at me, love.” Sansa met his gaze. Jon flexed his fingers over hers. She fluttered around his cock. “There you are, you’re going to come for me, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

She nodded. The heat was almost unbearable, she was coiled like a spring. 

Jon kissed her. “That’s it, come for your husband…”

A spasm went through her at _ your husband _. He was, she belonged to him.

Jon sucked at her pulse point. “Come for your lord, Sansa.”

_Yes,_ she thought, _he is, he_ _ is_.

Jon reached down between them, and stroked her. His eyes were dark, and his gaze was like fire. Sansa arched under him.

“Now, come for your alpha, _ now_.”

He bit down on her neck and she seized around him. She felt as if her whole life had led up to this moment, this night, when she was underneath Jon, full with him, taking all of him in. She wrapped her legs around him as he spilled inside her. He stayed there, savoring her. Jon kissed her through the ripples of pleasure that followed, then squeezed her fingers. “You can let go, now, love, hold on to me.” 

Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon. He rested his forehead on hers, but even that was too much. She buried her face in his neck, completely surrounded by him, under his protection. Jon pulled her down to the bed, soothing her, rubbing her back. He gathered up the furs and made a kind of nest for her. He laid her down gently and held her tight. She curled into a ball and shut out the rest of the world. Only Jon existed, his scent and his weight and his low, soft voice. 

Sansa came back to herself slowly, by degrees. She slipped in and out of dreams as Jon brought her food and wine. She made a token protest, trying to help, but Jon caught her hand and kissed it. “Let me take care of you, my love. Rest.” She did, drifting off one last time, hoping she and Jon had made a child together that night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! I've had...a lot to work through these past months, so apologies for how long it's taken me to update. I've gone back and forth on the ending for this fic, and I've settled on these final thoughts from Ned. I appreciate everyone who's stuck with this story, it means a lot to me!

Ned took his first full breath in months when he read the scroll from House Reed. He sat down at his desk and slumped in his seat in relief. 

He and Cat had seen Jon and Sansa through their wedding night. They’d quelled resentments and fits of temper back in Winterfell - first at Jon's departure, then Sansa's, and finally the announcement of their matching marks. Ned rubbed his temples. The Northern lords still grumbled, but their protests were slowing. There had been rumors, and even accusations about whether the marks were in fact the same.

Maester Luwin had been invaluable, throwing the full weight of his reputation behind the marks recorded in House Stark’s books. He’d opened them up freely for inspection. He’d stood tall as he answered each and every question.

He’d lied, over and over, just as Ned and Cat had done, to keep Jon and Sansa safe. The rumors still circulated, but they were fading away. Ned had begun to hope that they’d achieved success. He drank in Sansa's words again in the privacy of his solar.

_ Dear father, _

_ Jon and I are thrilled to tell you that I am with child. The babe is expected within eight months. We both miss you, and hope you will come visit soon. _

_ All our love, Sansa Reed. _

***

Eight months later, he and Cat arrived at House Reed. Sansa had given birth to a healthy boy only a day ago.

Ned and his wife joined Jon and Sansa in the nursery. Ned took in the large and comfortable room. Sunlight poured through the diamond panes of the glass window. So far, he thought, from that dark and dreadful room they’d been locked in on their first night.

Sansa looked peaceful and content. She sat in a rocking chair near the fire, holding Brandon and soothing his fussing. Jon stood over his wife, guarding her without knowing it, Ned suspected. Jon gazed at Brandon with awe, and pride, when Sansa placed the babe in his arms.

If Robert visits, Ned thought, he’ll find Jon Reed, with a wife and a son of his own. A fully-fledged lord, and an heir who would inherit Howland’s title and House Reed’s lands. As Cat had said, all those months ago, once the deed was done, it would be difficult to undo.

_ He’s safe, Ned_, a voice whispered in his mind. _ You kept my boy alive, and gave him a family. Now, brother, go hold your grandson in your arms. Give him a kiss for me. _

Ned walked over, took the babe from Jon, and kissed Brandon’s brow. _ That’s from your great aunt Lyanna, _ he thought_. You’ll never meet her, but she loves you very much. And so do I. _

***


End file.
